


Collared Dove

by Dancingdog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angels, Demons, Hunters, M/M, Monsters, Monsters are slaves, Slavery, Slow Burn, Torture, really slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:06:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 132,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingdog/pseuds/Dancingdog
Summary: In a world where monsters live as pets for humans, Sam and Dean are irked to find they are legally required to adopt their own monsters despite working as part of the hunting unit for the police. After their last demon pets tried to kill them, neither Winchester is looking forward to housing an angel and a trickster. Fortunately, all monsters are forced to wear shock collars to prevent them from harming humans and Sam and Dean are convinced their lives will continue as normal as long as their pets, Castiel and Loki, know their place. Their monsters have other plans.It's hard work, but eventually Gabriel and Castiel get Sam and Dean to understand that monsters are fearful of the world they live in, and so begins the rescue of the angels' long lost brothers; Raphael, Lucifer and Michael. The issue?Gabriel and Castiel haven't seen them for 27 years.





	1. Chapter 1

Robert smiled at the smell of chocolate-chip cookies as he entered the house. He was a dark-skinned young man with short black hair and warm brown eyes and unlike many seventeen-year-old boys, he could shapeshift into a dragon. His alternate form was approximately the size of a Labrador retriever and his scales shone metallic purples and greens when the light struck them at a particular angle. 

He was a handsome dragon, in both his reptile form and his human form and his owner loved him very much.

He fingered the red shock collar around his neck. It had been deactivated years ago by his owner but he had to wear at all times for his own safety. 

Monsters caught without collars were punished.

Robert had never been punished though. He had a good life unlike other monsters and his owner, Maria; an elderly woman with grey hair, a kind smile and a particular fondness for baking, took care of him as best she could. She was sympathetic towards monsters and Robert knew how lucky he was to have landed her as his master.

He set the newly-bought bag of flour and eggs in the kitchen and wandered into the lounge. He blew a stream of flames into the fireplace, satisfied when the logs began to crackle and burn, giving the room that homely, lived-in feel. Maria was always cold these days and Robert didn’t mind the heating being turned up to maximum. 

He rolled his eyes fondly as he spotted her slippers strewn haphazardly under the couch and he crouched down to retrieve them before making his way to the stairs. He paused before he reached the first step and headed towards the kitchen again; Maria always loved a cup of tea around two in the afternoon. Milk, two sugars and brewed in a proper teapot. 

Once he’d prepared the tea, he grabbed a freshly-baked cookie (then snagged another for himself) and trotted towards the stairs once more.

“Maria,” he called as he climbed the steps. She was probably reading in the study. Robert liked the study; he enjoyed sitting beside her and reading the school books she’d bought him. Just because he couldn’t go to school like a human teenager, that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn the same subjects. Chemistry was his favourite subject. He liked all the experiments involving fire and Maria’s face would light up when he asked her questions about covalent bonds and titrations because back in her prime, she had been a chemistry teacher. She liked to teach him new things and Robert loved to listen.

“Maria, I’ve brought you some tea,” he said as he reached the study. “And a cookie,” he added on with a grin. Maria baked the best cookies.

There was no response so thinking her asleep, he nudged the door open quietly and thought about how many blankets he should bring her.

The tea cup clattered to the floor, the cookie with it as he stared at the scene in front of him. 

Maria was sprawled over the floor in a pool of her own blood, a book by her left hand, her body pale and lifeless and her expression frozen in everlasting fear. Her arms bore bruises as if there had been a struggle and two deep holes marred her neck; right where her jugular vein lay. 

Vampire.

Letting out a broken sob, Robert rushed to her side, desperately thumping his hands against her chest in a fruitless attempt at restarting her heart. He knew the action was useless but he couldn’t think clearly and tears were blurring his vision as he cried her name over and over. He eventually gave up and hunched over her body, sobbing into her chest as he squeezed her cold hand.

Suddenly, sirens sounded from the end of the street, growing louder with every passing second and Robert shot upright, eyes wide and pulse racing. He glanced at his dead owner and stumbled to his feet, knowing exactly who the police would blame for the death of an old human woman. It didn’t matter that the fang marks were indicative of a vampire; Maria was Robert’s owner.

And now his fingerprints were all over the crime scene.

He heard a car door slam closed outside the house and with one last heartbroken sob, he staggered out of the study and headed towards his bedroom. It was at the back of the house and if he was lucky, the police wouldn’t see him flying out of the window.

He slid the window open and morphed into his dragon form, the collar tight around his neck and he leapt forwards, spreading his leathery wings and shaking his head to clear the tears stinging his eyes.

He was struggling to coordinate his movements with the scene of a bloodied Maria replaying through his mind on loop and he hit the ground once before taking to the skies again. He had to get away from the house. He didn’t know who had tipped the police off to Maria’s death, but he couldn’t stay to find out what had happened. He had to hide.

His heart raced as he heard a surprised shout from the ground and he cried out in terror as a bullet soared past his left wing. The noise came out as a distressed roar and he winced at his own animalistic voice before veering sharply to his right. He had to find cover; had to get away from the town. He spotted a forest a few miles off and pushed himself faster. He could hide there.

There was more frustrated and angry yelling from behind him and he began to hope as the voices grew quieter. He could make it.

Agony ripped through his chest and he released another inhuman roar, this one of pain as his wings faltered. More agony burst through his stomach and he felt himself falling as his brain was overwhelmed with fear and adrenaline. He crashed into the ground and staggered to his feet, desperately trying to force himself towards the forest. If he could make it there, he could survive. He could live as a fugitive.

Blood dripped over the grass as he groaned and clawed his way forwards. He had to escape. He didn’t want to die.

It took a few minutes for the humans to catch up and when they did, he whimpered as they stamped on his tail to keep him in place, guns aimed at his head and badges glistening under the sunlight.

 _‘Monster Unit’_ , they read. _‘To serve and protect’._

With great effort, Robert morphed into his human form and rolled onto his back, blood soaking through his shirt. 

“Please,” he begged. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”

The shorter Officer; a man with green eyes, blondish-brown hair and a chiseled jaw, snorted and raised his gun a little higher.

“That’s what they all say.”

Robert began to cry, raising his hands uselessly in front of his face. “Please,” he whimpered. “I don’t want to die.”

The taller Officer; a man with long brown hair and hazel eyes, frowned.

“Neither did Maria Carter.”

There was the crack of a gunshot and Robert heard his own agonized choking before the light left his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Why do they always say they didn’t do it?” Grumbled Dean as he emptied his gun of dragon-killing bullets. He tucked them away into a wooden box with a tiny dragon’s head carved onto its surface and slammed the boot closed. He and Sam slid into the ’67 Chevrolet Impala and began the drive back to the station, watching the ambulance men throw the corpse of the dragon into their van.

Sam shrugged. “They’ll say anything to stop you from killing them.”

“Yeah but how stupid do they think we are? A helpless old woman killed in her own house, surrounded by blood and the neighbours all report screaming and the sound of some sort of struggle going on upstairs. Oh, and she just happens to own a dragon, who flew out the back window the moment he heard the cops. Seems pretty incriminating to me,” complained Dean.

“I never said he wasn’t guilty,” hummed Sam before frowning. “Although there were two holes in the side of the old woman’s neck. My first guess would’ve been vampire.”

Dean pulled a face. “Dragons have fangs too. My guess would be the kid finally turned on her whilst she didn’t have her attention on him. She was clearly reading and with her being old she was probably deaf. Kid just bit into her neck and it’s all over for Maria.”

Sam mulled this over for a few moments. “There were bruises on her arms,” he said slowly. “As though she fought back.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Snorted Dean. “If I was faced with a dragon trying to kill me, I’d probably fight back too.”

“But I thought you said she wasn’t paying attention to him?” Frowned Sam in confusion and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Does it matter? They’re both dead now. Whilst I’m sorry the woman had to lose her life, at least Godzilla won’t hurt anyone else.”

Sam shrugged and relaxed into his seat as he scanned through the scribbled case notes they’d received before arriving at the crime scene.

“Victor’s going to be thrilled about another report he’s got to read through,” chuckled Sam suddenly and Dean grinned. They were good at what they did and their boss complained loudly and often about all the extra paperwork they gave him. 

“Yeah well, we’ve got to write it first,” Dean pointed out. “So, you can get on that and I’ll go grab us some pizza.”

Sam scowled, shooting his brother a dirty look. “Oh no, you’re not getting out of paperwork again. For the past five cases you’ve dumped it all on me and this time, I’m not doing it. _I’ll_ get the pizza and _you_ can make a start on the report.”

Dean pouted (even if he would never admit to it). “But Sammy… you’re so good at writing and junk. Victor always says how thorough you are. When he gets mine back, he just raises an eyebrow and pulls a face.”

“Which shows you need more practice at writing reports,” smirked Sam, which earned him a dirty glare.

“I don’t trust you to get the pizzas. You might put pineapple on or some other healthy crap like… mushrooms.” Dean shuddered and Sam rolled his eyes.

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat a bit of fruit every now and again.”

“Yeah, but on pizza? It’s just plain wrong.”

Sam eyed his brother for a couple of moments. “You’re not getting out of this report, Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll do the stupid paperwork.”

Sam smiled, satisfied and leaned back in his seat as he scanned through the case notes once more. He paused when he remembered something.

“Hey, don’t forget we have to visit adoptions by the end of the week. Otherwise, we’re gonna get a lovely three-hundred-dollar fine.”

Dean scowled and tightened his grip on the wheel. “I still say we shouldn’t have to adopt a monster. We’re police. Why should the people who investigate crimes involving monsters have to own one? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s law,” Sam pointed out. “Everyone has to have one. Just because we’re officers, doesn’t mean we’re above the law.”

“I just don’t like monsters,” grumbled Dean.

Sam glanced away. His brother had a good reason to hate monsters. The lasts ones they’d owned had been demons and had tried to kill them both. 

“Maybe we’ll get nice ones,” shrugged Sam even though he didn’t really believe his own words. No monster was ever good or ‘nice’. They could be polite and follow orders, but in Sam and Dean’s experience, they only did that because they were forced to by the collars around their necks. If the collars were removed, monsters would wipe out the entirety of the human population and most probably each other too. The collars kept that from happening.

The collars were all produced by one company called _‘Chainmail’_. _Chainmail_ designed collars for each species of monster and it was law for every monster to wear one. Most were shock collars with varying voltage strengths; a lot of monsters were weakened by severe electric shocks just like any human. However, for certain monsters, safe guards had to be put into place. Demons for example, would have an extra feature added to their shock collars in case the high voltage wasn’t enough to down them completely. If the collar could still detect great power from the demon, it would release a small burst of holy water directly into the demon’s bloodstream via a tiny, inbuilt needle. Holy water burned demons and releasing too much into the blood stream would outright kill them. As it was, the amount released merely made the demon pass out from pain.

Angels and demigods and other powerful entities had similar fail-safes, just in case the electric shocks weren’t enough to deter them when they did something wrong. 

The way the collar worked was by detecting a change in magic levels, hormone levels and emotional state of the wearer. If the change was deemed dangerous or threatening to human well-being, the collar would release a burst of electricity. The greater the change in any three of these criteria, the greater the shock.

So far, it had worked in keeping humans safe and it had prevented more than a few fights between monsters. Angels and demons had learned to tolerate one another just as vampires and werewolves had. Demigods no longer squabbled and the world was a far more peaceful place than it had been a century ago.

It was illegal for the general public to interfere with the collars, although everyone had a small remote that would manually activate the collar’s punishment system; another safeguard. The longer the little button on the remote was depressed, the greater the shock voltage. 

In America, the only people who held devices to fully deactivate the collars were the FBI, CIA and members of the police’s Monster Unit and even they were only supposed to use the remotes during special circumstances that warranted it.

Silence lapsed between the brothers and Sam placed the notes into their folder.

“Just don’t forget to go, okay?” He murmured and Dean nodded stiffly. He was still on edge about what happened with the last pair of monsters.

Sam sighed and turned his head towards the window. This was going to be a long drive. 

 

* * *

 

The weekend passed far too quickly for Dean’s liking and when Monday morning rolled around, he sauntered into the station, report clutched in his left hand as he made his way to Victor Henriksen’s office. He winked at Donna behind the reception desk and she rolled her eyes in amusement before returning to her computer and the doughnuts she thought she’s subtly hidden under her desk.

Dean vowed to snag one from her later.

He knocked lightly at Victor’s door and waited for the gruff “Enter,” before bursting in with his signature smirk.

“Good morning, Sir,” he drawled and Victor shot him a deadpan look before narrowing his eyes at the report.

“If that’s another report on the latest monster you two stopped, at least tell me Sam wrote it?”

Dean deflated slightly and frowned, dumping the paperwork on his boss’ desk.

“No,” he huffed. “He made me write it.”

“Great. Agony for both of us,” grumbled Victor as he dragged the report towards him like it would suddenly sprout tentacles and suffocate him if he got too close.

Dean scowled and crossed his arms moodily. He wasn’t that bad at reports… was he?

“How’d it go anyway?” Asked Victor and Dean dared to relax a little.

“Dragon tried to escape the second he heard the sirens. Think he was heading for the forest but he didn’t make it. Shot him down before he made it outside the town.”

“Good,” hummed Victor, pleased. “Can’t have rogue monsters flying around murdering people.”

Dean smirked as Victor scanned through the first few paragraphs of his report.

“Where’s your brother?” He asked idly. “I didn’t see him come in.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Adoption centre.”

Victor winced. The whole station knew about the Winchesters’ last pair of monsters and how that ended.

“Hopefully this time will end better,” Victor offered and Dean made a sound that suggested he didn’t believe it would.

“We got anything new in the cells?” Asked Dean curiously, eager to change the subject. Victor contemplated the question for a moment.

“Bill’s due for release today and hopefully he’s now sober enough to actually see straight. Shoplifter Sally is still down there and fisticuffs Felicia is still threatening to beat up anyone who comes near her cell,” he chuckled in amusement. Then he blinked. “Actually, we do have someone new. Or rather some _thing_. A trickster.”

Dean perked up in interest. Tricksters were extremely rare. 

“What’s it in for?”

“Prostitution,” frowned Victor. “Couldn’t find the owner. Had a collar but no tag. The chip was blank and it says it doesn’t know the real name of its owner, just an alias. Couldn’t trace the alias though.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure it had an owner? Maybe it was a stray.”

Victor shrugged. “Have a talk to it if you want. Its name’s Loki. Has a bit of a fiery personality. If you can’t get anything out of it, we’ll just send it off for rehabilitation and then put it up for adoption again.”

Dean hummed thoughtfully and Victor smiled knowingly. “Go on. I can see you’re itching to take a look at it.”

A smile blossomed over Dean’s face and he saluted his boss lazily before sauntering down to the cells. Tricksters were slippery creatures with a penchant for practical jokes. Society often frowned at them but due to their shape-shifting abilities and powerful magic, recently they were being used by criminals or in illegal monster fighting rings. Prostitution though? That was a new one.

Dean whistled tunelessly as he glanced into each cell, rolling his eyes when Felicia flicked a middle finger up at him. Loki was situated in the last cell, away from the other inmates and the trickster looked less than pleased to be there. It narrowed its eyes up at Dean when he came to rest in front of the bars and leaned back against the wall.

“You’re not here to let me go by any chance?” It drawled and Dean smirked and shook his head.

“Afraid not.”

The creature exhaled loudly and turned back to the wall. “Then I believe this discussion is over.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Ain’t you just a peach?”

The trickster clenched its fists for a moment before smiling sardonically at Dean.

“You sound just like my _clients_.” It spat the word ‘clients’ as if the word physically repulsed it.

“The ones you banged and took money from?” Hummed Dean. “Illegally,” he added.

Loki sat upright, glaring at Dean angrily.

“You say that like I had a choice.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Ask my owner. Oh wait, you can’t. He high-tailed it out of state and dumped the blame on me so he wouldn’t go to jail. He’s the one who you should be charging, not me. I was just following my master’s orders.” The trickster curled its lips in disgust.

Dean grabbed a collapsible chair and placed it in front of the trickster’s cell.

“Your master, huh? If you were following your master’s orders, why don’t you have a tag on that pretty collar of yours? Boss says the chip is blank.”

Loki narrowed its eyes. “Probably because my owner is a pimp. He doesn’t want me to be traced back to him.”

“Then what’s his name?”

Here, Loki faltered, glancing away embarrassedly.

“As I told the other officers, I don’t know. He used an alias and refused to tell me his real name.”

Dean snorted in disbelief. “How long was he your owner for?”

The trickster ducked its head slightly before sighing. “Six years.”

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “So let me get this straight… You expect me to believe you were in this guy’s care for six years and you never found out his real name? You, a trickster, couldn’t find out one human’s name?”

“Well, it’s not that impossible to believe considering you stupid humans make us wear these horrific things until we die!” Loki snarled, fingering its collar. “Every time I even think of using magic, I get electrocuted! My neck smells like a barbecue!”

Dean raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “It’s safer that way.”

“Safer for you,” snapped Loki. “I have grill lines over my throat!”

“Cry me a river,” scoffed Dean. “All monsters are treated equally; you haven’t got it any tougher than anyone else.”

Loki stalked towards the front of its cell. “The only monsters here are you humans. You treat us worse than animals. You use us as slaves and playthings for your amusement and when we fight back, you label us ‘rogues’ and think it gives you the right to kill us. You’re cruel and evil and we will always despise you.”

Dean leaned forwards. “You really think so? Hate to break it to you, buddy, but a lot of monsters happen to enjoy having owners. Means you’re less likely to kill each other.”

Loki smirked bitterly. “You have no idea how the world works, Officer. Then again, I can’t be too hard on a dumb ape like yourself. It’s not your fault your entire species is stupid.”

Dean’s smile faded, replaced by an expression of irritation. He stood and prowled towards Loki’s cell, leaning close to the bars as he dropped his voice.

“If it was up to me, your kind would have been wiped out a long time ago. After the things I’ve seen in my line of work, you don’t deserve to live.”

Loki sneered, cruel and condescending. “I bet you enjoy murdering us, don’t you? I bet you sleep with a smile after slaughtering hundreds of innocents.”

“Monsters aren’t innocent,” growled Dean and Loki laughed, sharp and cold.

“If that isn’t a shiny example of the corrupted American criminal justice system, then I don’t know what is.”

Dean grit his teeth before forcing himself to calm down and relax into his chair once more.

“Since you’re so intent on protecting your owner’s name, I’ll tell you what happens next. You’ll be carted off to a-”

“Rehabilitation institution, where I’ll be taught how to be a perfect trickster slave to the human population. Then I’ll be housed temporarily in an adoption centre, where I’ll wait to be chosen by the next sick human who wants to play with me and abuse me in order to bring some sort of twisted pleasure to their demented life,” finished Loki. “Save it, Princess, I’ve heard this spiel a thousand times before. Once the human gets bored of frying my skin, they’ll dump me at the next adoption centre, where I’ll be sent off for rehabilitation once again because clearly, I’m not an obedient pet and I need to learn my place, and so the cycle continues. You know what they do to us at those rehabilitation centres, right?” Drawled Loki.

Dean ignored the question. “I’m surprised anyone chose you to be quite honest. Your attitude stinks.”

Loki scoffed. “Well, you’re no sweetheart yourself. Bet your pet can’t stand you.”

Dean’s lips drew into a thin line. “My last ‘pet’ tried to kill me, but I got to the knife first.”

Loki seemed genuinely amused, face brightening in delight. “Can’t say I blame the poor thing. Did they at least cut you up? Slice a toe off? Break a tooth?”

Dean ground his teeth together angrily and refused to answer. Lilith and Ruby were not his favourite conversation starters.

Loki shrugged at his non-response.

“Whatever. I wish the best of luck to your next victim. They’re gonna need it with someone as stupid as you.”

Dean crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes in irritation. “And I wish your next owner the best of luck. With an infuriating attitude like yours, he’s gonna need it.”

Loki chuckled and wandered back to the wooden bench mounted to the wall.

“You say that like it’s an insult. Do you honestly think I want to be nice to humans? It brings a smile to my face knowing I annoy them to the brink of them wanting to get rid of me.”

Dean snorted. “If you were under my roof, I’d knock that defiance right out of you. Monsters don’t stand a chance when it comes to me.”

Loki eyed the gun haltered in Dean’s belt. “I’ll bet,” it murmured pointedly. Then the trickster smirked and leaned back against the wall. “But I’ve heard the story a thousand times before. Every pathetic human thinks they can take me on. They say they’ll force me to be obedient; tell me they can train me into the perfect little pet; threaten to beat me if I don’t follow orders. Nothing ever works. They always give up in the end.”

“That’s because you’ve never had the right owner before,” hummed Dean arrogantly and Loki cocked an eyebrow before a devilish smirk crossed its features.

“Is that so?” It murmured. “Prove it. You think you’re so tough? Adopt me. Prove you can handle me.”

Dean nearly took the bait just to wipe the creature’s smirk from its face. Instead, he snorted and shook his head.

“I don’t think so. You’re to be sent off for rehabilitation. Some other unlucky soul can deal with you.”

Loki scoffed condescendingly and turned away from him, as if Dean was a particularly boring insect.

“Figures. You’re all bark and no bite. Clearly, you’re not intelligent enough or courageous enough to handle anything stronger than a human. It’s a pity it’s called slavery when you slap a collar around one of their necks.” Loki grinned. “Humans and their double standards.”

Dean regarded the creature coolly. “Humans deserve rights,” he said.

Irritation flickered over Loki’s face. “A matter of opinion.”

Dean stared at the trickster for a few moments. It was clear the thing loathed humans of any kind and thought itself above them, even with the shiny silver collar around its neck. It seemed to pride itself on getting a rise out of humans, on being ‘untamable’.

Dean had always enjoyed a challenge.

“Fine,” Dean said after a few moments, making the creature glance over to him curiously. “Since you’re volunteering yourself as my new pet, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I’ll sign your paperwork, register your chip to me and we’ll go from there.”

Loki raised an eyebrow in surprise before a smirk spread across its features.

“I don’t even know your name, Officer,” it purred. “How can I possibly go to a stranger’s home?”

Dean snorted. “You may address me as Officer Winchester or Sir,” he said, folding the chair away.

“Kinky,” hummed Loki.

Dean sent the trickster a sharp look and it winked in response.

“You sure you know what you’re getting yourself into, _Sir_?” Loki asked with the kind of smile a lawyer has when everything is heading in their favour.

Dean chuckled. “Don’t worry your pretty little face about me, Tricksy. You’re in my domain now.”

He whistled cheerily as he strolled away, ignoring Felicia as she bared her teeth at him when he passed her cell.

At least he wouldn’t have to bother with visiting the adoption centre.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam glanced up from his book at the click of the lock. He offered his brother a brief smile before closing his novel and standing to introduce him to the latest addition to the Winchester household.

In the corner of the room, a creature with glossy black wings and a collar to match straightened and moved away from the book case, regarding Dean carefully.

“Dean, this is…” Sam trailed off in surprise when a second figure followed Dean into the house, its silver collar glinting in the sunlight.

Dean glanced up at Sam and frowned as he caught sight of the angel in the far corner of the room. He locked the door and tilted his head at wide blue eyes that were focused wholly on Loki. Loki seemed equally as shocked at the angel’s presence and it froze, lips parting slightly as it stared at the stranger.

“…Castiel,” Sam finished quietly, frowning between the pair. He glanced at Dean warily.

“…Loki,” Dean introduced with an aborted wave of his hand, too focused on the shocked surprise radiating from their monsters.

Castiel suddenly wrinkled its nose, frowning at Dean for a second before Loki sent the angel a sharp look, forcing it to return its attention to the trickster.

Dean suddenly stiffened as one of his tenth-grade mythology lessons stirred in his mind.

“Hey! No fighting, you two! I don’t care if you’re from rivalling religions, if you’re under our roof, you stick to our rules. Capisce?”

Sam tensed, eyes darting worriedly between the pair as he tried to work out exactly what kind of creature Loki was.

“Trickster,” Dean supplied at his brother’s questioning gaze and this time, Castiel’s eyes widened at Loki in surprise.

“You two know each other?” Dean asked carefully, but when Castiel opened his mouth to respond, Loki quickly cut the angel off.

“You could say that. We’ve worked with each other before. Owned by the same filthy human; that sort of thing.” It crossed its arms.

“It hates humans,” Dean snorted at Sam’s mildly offended frown. Sam eyed his brother reproachfully.

“Probably doesn’t help when you keep calling him _‘it’_.”

Loki blinked in surprise at Sam and Dean pursed his lips before shrugging dismissively. 

“It’s not human. It doesn’t get a pronoun.”

“Neither’s a dog, but you don’t call that ‘it’,” Sam pointed out.

Loki’s lips quirked upwards briefly before he smirked condescendingly at Dean. The older Winchester pulled a face and waved his hand carelessly.

“Whatever. _He_ hates humans, then. I’m not particularly fond of him either but it’s better than a demon, right?”

Sam grimaced at the memory of their last monsters. He eyed the trickster cautiously and wondered what type of pranks one who despised humans would play on them.

“I guess,” Sam said quietly. He glanced over to Castiel. “Castiel is a seraph. His papers say he worked at a care home for the elderly for most of his life before he was placed for adoption. Apparently, he started when he was eight and he worked there for twenty-three years, just healing people and helping them out.”

Dean removed his jacket and slung it over the hook behind the door.

“Oh? What did he get thrown out for?” If he was so perfect and ‘good’, he would still be at the care home, which meant he must have done something to get kicked out.

Castiel winced and dropped his gaze as Sam tried to remember what his documents had said.

“One of the residents accused him of killing another resident. Turns out the guy overdosed and Castiel was deemed innocent, but the staff nor the residents wanted him back,” Sam said. “I think he’s banned from working in health professions and anything to do with the elderly.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgement as Castiel closed his eyes sadly.

“Patel,” he murmured softly, making Dean and Sam turn to him. “The gentleman who overdosed; his name was Patel. He was a kind soul. Always put others before himself. His daughter died in a car accident and he couldn’t bear to live without her, so he swallowed an entire bottle of aspirin. I found him on the floor, mid-seizure. I tried to save him, to heal him, but it was too late.”

Castiel kept his gaze lowered. “The staff found me with my hands cradling his face, pumping grace into him. I suppose at first glance, it appeared as though I’d killed him.”

Dean and Sam stared at the angel for a few moments before Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Well, I’m gonna get a drink. Want one, Sam? After that we can go over the rules.”

“Sure,” snarked Loki. “Get me a pint of insensitivity with a dash of rudeness and garnish it with a sprinkle of arrogant self-righteousness. Got all that?”

Dean flipped him off and strode into the kitchen.

Sam coughed awkwardly before glancing at Loki. “What about you? What did you do before Dean adopted you?”

Loki forced an unpleasant smile. “Do you want the lies my papers weave or do you want the truth?”

Sam shifted. “The truth,” he said quietly, feeling oddly small in the face of Loki’s cold glare.

The trickster smirked and prowled towards the couch, sitting on its arm as he crossed his own.

“I worked as a whore,” he purred. “For six years. You wouldn’t believe the types of dirty fantasies you humans are capable of, and I was the star of them all. I was lucky if I got three meals a week because my owner thought it was more cost-effective to ply me with chocolate and other candy. Afterall, that’s what tricksters live off, right?” He drawled sarcastically. “Anyway, my owner, or my pimp, was whoring me and a few other monsters out illegally and the second the police caught on, he high-tailed it out of there and left us to face the music. I was the first the cops caught and by the time they restrained me, the others had ditched me, so I was thrown into a cell and interrogated for information I didn’t have on an owner I didn’t even know the name of. What a wonderful world it is.”

Sam frowned at Loki’s bitter glare. “Prostitution is illegal,” he said firmly. “We treat human prostitutes in exactly the same manner.”

“Humans _choose_ to sell their bodies,” Loki spat and Sam quickly clamped his mouth shut. “But the law doesn’t see it that way,” Loki snorted as he wrinkled his nose. “If we refuse our owners, we get electrocuted like wild animals. If we obey our owners, we get arrested. Not exactly a fair system.”

Sam stared at his hands, refusing to comment. The law was in place for a reason and as an officer, he stood by that. It didn't matter whether you were human or monster; the law was fair.

Loki sneered cruelly, as though Sam was a flea-bitten rodent begging for scraps at a five-star restaurant.

“You humans sicken me.”

“Alright, so after that delightful conversation,” Dean bit out upon re-entering the lounge, “let’s go over the house rules.” He passed a beer to Sam, pointedly not offering anything to Castiel or Loki; the latter glaring at him coolly.

“Number one: You want food, you ask. No foraging for scraps. Number two: You don’t leave the house without our permission, not even to go into the yard. Three: Stay out of our rooms. I mean it. If I find either of you have been in our rooms, I’ll shock you both, got it? Four: Know your place. We don’t want a couple of abominations residing in our house to begin with, but since it’s the law, we have to. Make sure you know your place in this house and we won’t run into any problems, okay?”

Loki clenched his fists and Castiel bowed his head slightly in understanding. Dean took a swig of his beer. “If I think of anything else, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“Of course, your majesty,” growled Loki, prompting Dean to shoot him a narrowed glare. He fished a small remote with a single red button on its surface out of his pocket and waved it warningly at the trickster.

“I won’t hesitate to use this,” he huffed. “One step out of line…” He let the threat hang between them ominously. Loki finally fell silent.

“Freak,” Dean muttered under his breath before swallowing more of his beer and heading towards the stairs. “I’m gonna look into that wendigo case Vic gave us,” he called to Sam, who grunted in acknowledgement and sipped at his own beer. He waited for Dean’s footsteps to fade into nothing before glancing between Loki and Castiel.

“…You guys must be starving. You want something to eat? Or drink?”

In a foul mood, Loki crossed his arms and turned away from Sam stubbornly, ignoring the question. Castiel scowled at the trickster before smiling politely at Sam.

“I am rather famished,” he admitted softly and Sam smiled back. He liked the angel’s placid nature; so different from the demon Ruby.

“Come with me and take a look at what we have,” Sam offered, standing and making his way into the kitchen, quickly followed by Castiel.

After a few moments, Loki followed moodily.

 

* * *

 

Dean had placed the angel and trickster in the same room Lilith and Ruby had stayed in. Same beds, same bathroom, same faded walls that needed repainting.

It set Sam on edge that they were possibly repeating the same mistakes they had made last time. Dean had argued that he wanted both monsters in the same room, so he knew where they were, but Sam wasn’t sure if housing two rivalling species in the same room was a fantastic idea. Tricksters and angels were both powerful creatures and if they decided to kill each other, or worse; team up and kill their owners, there would be a lot of blood involved.

Nerves prickling at the thought of what their monsters could be doing alone in that bedroom, Sam threw off the covers and crept into the corridor. He paused at the monsters’ door, trying to think up an excuse of why he had barged in there if the pair were awake. He could always admit he had wanted to check they weren’t trying to kill each other.

Carefully, he eased the door open and poked his head inside, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him.

Despite there being two single beds on opposite sides of the room, Castiel and Loki had squeezed into the same one. The angel was tucked into Loki’s chest, his wings wrapped tightly around the trickster and Loki’s arms were curled protectively around the angel, one hand buried in the base of a dark wing. Loki’s nose was pressed into Castiel’s hair and from his position in the doorway, Sam could see Castiel was smiling gently in his sleep, content in the trickster’s arms.

Sam gaped, unable to tear his gaze away from the strange scene and he startled when Loki cracked an eye open to glare at him.

“Close the door,” Loki growled warningly, tightening his grip on Castiel. The angel stirred, a small crease between his brows as he snuggled deeper into Loki’s chest.

Sam stared, shocked and Loki’s eyes flashed a dangerous gold.

 _“Get out,”_ he hissed, the collar detecting a hostile change in emotions and releasing a small charge because of it. The trickster flinched and carded his fingers through Castiel’s feathers to soothe himself.

Sam’s mouth opened and closed a few times, trying to find words for the unbelievable scene but upon locating none, he quickly clamped his mouth shut and closed the door silently. He stood outside for a few moments, listening for any sounds from within the room, but quiet greeted him and he slowly made his way back to his own room, mind reeling. Weren’t demigods and angels supposed to despise each other? Weren’t they supposed to fight and try to kill one another? Weren’t they supposed to show off their powers and argue over who had more followers in their religion?

Sam shook his head in disbelief and slid into bed once more.

 

* * *

 

“They were cuddling?” Dean asked, pulling a face as he flipped the eighth pancake of the morning.

Sam shook his head, equally sceptic of his own words. “That’s what I saw.”

Dean huffed irritably. “Great. Can either of them get pregnant?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t think it was that type of cuddling.”

The older Winchester lay the pancake on one of two plates. “You sure? I really don’t want some deformed, mutant, demigod baby with wings flapping around the house.”

Sam bit back a chuckle at the mental image and shook his head. “Pretty sure it wasn’t that kind of cuddling.”

Dean shrugged and grabbed chocolate sauce for himself and a tub of blueberries from the fridge for Sam. A few moments later, he joined his brother at the table, carefully placing Sam’s breakfast in front of him. The younger Winchester snorted out a laugh.

“Really?” He said, gesturing to his plate of pancakes; the blueberries arranged into a smiley face.

Dean grinned. “I modelled it off your face when you watch porn.”

Sam’s eyes widened and he hurled a blueberry at his brother with a laugh. Dean caught it in his mouth and smirked at his brother.

“You’re such a child,” complained Sam, but there was no heat behind his words and both Winchesters quickly dug into their breakfasts.

A few minutes later, two more figures padded into the kitchen, eying the humans warily.

Dean immediately tensed, eyes hard and cold as he glanced at Castiel and Loki, who hovered in the doorway awkwardly, trying not to stare at the delicious-smelling pancakes.

Sam glanced between his brother and the monsters before focusing on Castiel.

“Want some breakfast?” He asked and the angel’s gaze flicked briefly to the half-eaten pancakes before he nodded.

His wings drooped in disappointment when Sam pulled out a box of Cornflakes.

“You can sit in the lounge if you like,” said Sam as he handed Castiel his bowl. “Just don’t spill anything.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at Sam’s poorly hidden dismissal before turning to Dean expectedly. “Well?” He demanded.

“Well what?” Dean grumbled as he shoved another forkful of pancake into his mouth.

“You gonna ask if I want breakfast?” Loki snapped.

Dean didn’t bother to look at him. “You want some breakfast?” He deadpanned and Loki smiled bitterly.

“Please, oh glorious master.”

Dean didn’t make any move to get up. “Go and get something then.”

The trickster grit his teeth in anger before swiping Castiel’s bowl of cereal and tossing it into the sink. He clicked his fingers and a steaming plate of syrup-drizzled pancakes appeared in both his and Castiel’s hands. Then he winced as his collar activated.

Castiel frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but Loki was already storming out of the room, dragging the angel with him by his wrist.

Dean and Sam stared at each other in mild surprise before continuing with their meal.

When they next joined the angels in the living room, they had their police uniforms on and were ready to head out to the station.

“We’re going to work, so stay out of our rooms and try not to kill each other,” said Dean in a bored tone. “Make yourselves useful. Clean the house or something. Wash the dishes. Change the beds. That sort of thing. Don’t go outside.”

Loki looked furious as he clenched his fists, but Castiel merely seemed resigned.

“Of course, Sir,” he said quietly, submissively as he dropped his gaze. This angered Loki further.

“You’re leaving us here all day?” He growled.

“Why? Are you not house trained yet?” Dean fired back.

“No,” Loki snarled, “I might accidentally shit on your bed.”

Dean bristled, tired of the trickster’s argumentative nature. He pulled the collar activation remote out of his pocket, thumb hovering over the button.

“Go into either of our rooms and I’ll hold this button down for ten seconds and see what happens.”

Loki paled, anger quickly replaced by fear. The longer the button was held, the greater the strength of the shock.

Dean smirked, stuffing the tiny device into his pocket once more.

Sam was checking his phone.

Dean leaned over his brother’s shoulder (which was quite a feat considering the height difference) and raised an eyebrow when he realized Sam was engaged in a rapid-fire text battle with their boss. Sam suddenly pocketed his phone and whirled to face Dean.

“Two wraiths are on a killing spree at the local supermarket. Apparently, they’ve already killed three cashiers and a cleaner.”

“Good,” Loki murmured darkly.

Both brothers shot him a glare before Dean nodded towards the door. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The supermarket was part of the Walmart chain; that little yellow sunburst on the store front ironically bright compared to the slaughterfest inside.

Inside was a bloody massacre.

Two cashiers were slumped over their tills, lifeless and a third lay draped on the floor, arm outstretched towards an emergency _‘break glass’_ box hooked up to the store’s fire alarm.

Three dead customers lay prone just in front of the door, blood leaking from their slashed throats and Sam and Dean glanced around to find more customers, staff members and monsters cowering between tills and food aisles, some crying silently or holding children close whilst others merely focused on breathing or staring grimly ahead.

On the left side of the room, one of the windows was painted with tiny red dots and Sam and Dean assumed that was where the cleaner lay.

Both Winchesters tightened their grips on their guns and Dean made a quick, sharp movement with his right hand, signaling Sam to search the left side of the building whilst he searched the right. They kept their footsteps quiet as they prowled down the aisles, silently gesturing for the other customers, monsters and staff members to remain still. 

A flash of movement from the cheese aisle caught Sam’s attention and he aimed his gun as he crept over, breaths steady even though his heart was racing. There was some shuffling and another flicker of movement had Sam jumping from cover and raising his gun.

A small boy blinked up at him, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Sam quickly lowered the gun and put an apologetic hand out when suddenly, the boy’s eyes widened and he made to shout. Sam was abruptly hit over the head with what felt like a wheel of Camembert. 

He staggered and quickly regained his footing, whirling to grip the wraith’s wrists just before its spike skewered his brain.

The wraith, a tall female with black hair, wild green eyes and a vicious snarl, bared her teeth at Sam and kicked out at his knees until he stumbled. Then she was on him again, trying to ram her spike into his throat.

Sam glanced at her collar as he grabbed her arms, wondering why she wasn’t being fried for such horrific violence, and he realized her collar was broken; the metal hacked and twisted until it was barely clinging on to her neck, as though someone had taken a saw to it. There were a few thin slashes in the skin above and below the metal, each looking fairly recent if the red droplets sliding down her neck were anything to go by.

Sam tried desperately to manhandle the creature into a more manageable position, but the wraith was far stronger and she pinned Sam to the glass barrier until it dug painfully into his spine. Her spike slipped an inch closer to his throat and Sam finally admitted defeat as he angled his gun awkwardly into her abdomen and fired three shots.

She dropped like a stone, blood soaking her shirt rapidly as the silver bullets nestled inside her gut.

From the other side of the store, there was an enraged scream, shortly followed by two shots and a heavy thump. 

Sam sighed and stretched his aching back out as he gazed at the wraith’s corpse. He stamped on her spikes, snapping them off in case she decided she was immune to silver bullets and tried to go human hunting again.

After a few moments, customers and staff members hesitantly stood, smiles crawling across their faces. Some humans applauded and others joined in and Sam put a hand up half-heartedly in thanks. He was just doing his job. The little boy ran out to hug him.

The monsters took a little longer to stand. They didn’t smile and they didn’t applaud. Most stared down at the wraith with pity. A few looked angry and each of those were punished with a small electric shock, making them flinch.

“Go home,” Sam said loudly with a grin and the human customers and staff members cheered and headed towards the exit, dragging their monsters with them. Witness questioning wasn’t needed when the monsters were dead. The case was over. It was clear what had happened; two wraiths had broken their collars and killed some humans without fear of punishment, because that’s what monsters did. They hurt people for fun when they weren't collared.

As the supermarket cleared, Sam’s smile faded. Seven humans were dead. They didn’t deserve that; they had been innocent.

Sometimes he understood his brother’s deep loathing of anything non-human.

He called Victor, explaining the situation and then called a Dead Collector to pick up the monster corpses. They would be incinerated and thrown onto a toxic waste heap. 

Sam’s attention then shifted to the deceased humans littered around the store. He wondered if they had families and if so, were they here? If not, he would have to identify them and call the families (and probably a morgue).

As he was making his way towards the front of the store, where the dead customers lay, someone muttered lowly beside him.

“Their collars were broken. Kept electrocuting them and their owner did nothing. In the end they couldn’t take it and hacked them off. Staff and customers tried to subdue them. Didn’t care they were only trying to stop the pain. One man hit the tall one with a baseball bat. She begged him to stop. She didn’t want to hurt anyone. Was forced to in the end. Now she’s dead.”

Sam turned to face a small, elderly man with grey-silver skin, painted with ornate tattoos. His eyes glowed a dim blue and Sam frowned at him. Djinn.

The djinn shook his head sadly and suddenly jerked forwards, his old joints making it harder for him to steady himself. Sam noticed his blue collar was hooked up to a chain, held by his impatient owner.

“Vadim!” The woman huffed, yanking at his chain again. The djinn, Vadim, lowered his gaze and slowly traipsed after his owner, a slight limp in his step, but not before whispering “Their owner was Julie, baseball bat guy was Mateo.”

Sam scowled at the djinn’s retreating figure before shaking his head. Djinns were weird creatures.

He restarted his short journey to the front of the store, soon joined by Dean, who pulled a grim face at the mess of bodies at the entrance.

“You called Vic?” He asked and Sam nodded as he inspected the bodies gingerly.

“Guess we better start ID-ing, huh?” Dean sighed. Sam nodded and reached into the pocket of a fat, balding man with thick-rimmed glasses.

‘Paul’, his driver’s license read. ‘Paul Riding’. Age 47.

Sam shook his head in pity before moving on to the older woman with dyed red hair and garish purple lipstick.

‘Julie Anne Matthews’. Age 64.

Sam closed his eyes and tried not to think about whether poor Julie had grandchildren or not. Then his eyes flew open again and he stared at the name. _Julie._

He glanced at his brother, who was just returning the third victim’s driving license to his wallet. A muscled man with black, greased hair and designer stubble.

He took the wallet from Dean’s hands (much to his brother’s confusion) and fished out the license.

‘Mateo Ratolli’. Age 34.

Sam stared at the name for so long, his brother had to snap his fingers in front of his face to make sure he was still breathing.

“Baseball bat guy,” Sam murmured quietly, making Dean frown and check his temperature with the back of his hand. Sam shook him off and stood, a sinking feeling in his gut. The sound of the bullets unloading into the wraith’s stomach echoed in his mind and he grimaced.

“You okay, Sam?” Dean asked, concerned.

Sam nodded slowly. “Let’s finish ID-ing the corpses.” 

He wondered if the wraiths had families.

 

* * *

 

When the brothers returned home that evening, the house was spotless.

Sam and Dean glanced around in surprise, noting the polished windows and hoovered floors. They couldn’t remember their house ever being so clean.

They kicked off their shoes and barely made it three steps into the lounge before a dry voice called out “I hope you’re going to put them away.”

They looked up to find Loki leaning against the far wall, arms crossed and duster in one hand as he scowled at their shoes.

“You cleaned the house,” Sam stated dumbly as Castiel poked his head in from the kitchen to see what the fuss was.

“Just like you ordered,” scoffed Loki.

“Is everything to your satisfaction, Master?” Asked Castiel politely and after the day he’d had, Sam grimaced at the word.

“Looks great,” Dean answered for him, eying Sam suspiciously. Castiel bowed his head slightly. Sam wondered if he knew it made him look like a slave.

He thought about that sentence again and tried to figure out the difference between a ‘pet’ monster and a slave.

Dean shrugged and strode over to the book case and pulled out a Chinese takeaway menu. 

“I was thinking takeout for a job well-done,” he stated. “What you feeling?”

 _‘Confused,’_ Sam thought.

“Chow mein,” he said. “Vegetable.”

Dean screwed his nose up and dialed the number, ordering one chow mein and one beef in black bean sauce. Castiel and Loki sagged disappointedly and Sam and Dean ignored them along with their discarded shoes. When the monsters’ staring grated on Dean’s nerves, he eyed them coldly.

“You guys can snap something up for yourselves like you did this morning, right? You don’t need us wasting hard-earned money on you.”

Loki looked livid, but a gentle touch on his shoulder from Castiel quickly calmed him and he closed his eyes, defeated.

“Of course, Sir,” Castiel said, but his usually subdued voice was tinged with irritation and his eyes were narrowed as he addressed Dean. “May I request we are allowed to eat in our room?”

Dean waved his hand dismissively, not bothering to look at the angel as he fumbled for the TV remote down the side of the couch.

“Master?” The angel suddenly said, staring unblinkingly at Sam with a sharpness to his gaze Sam had never noticed before. “Is that also amenable to you?”

Sam nodded slowly, feeling oddly intimidated by the angel’s hard gaze.

“Very well,” murmured Castiel, hand still resting on Loki’s shoulder. His voice softened, gaze warming as he glanced at the trickster. “Allow me,” he offered quietly. “What is it you are craving?”

The trickster seemed unhappy at how things had panned out, but he carefully reached out to pet a few dark feathers.

“Surprise me,” he said softly, fingers dancing tenderly over Castiel’s wing.

They climbed the stairs together and Dean once again wondered if they would soon be housing some weird hybrid angel-trickster thing he’d be itching to shoot.

Sam wondered why he could still hear those gunshots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

A week passed and Sam soon forgot about his guilt over the wraiths. Djinns were adept at changing perceptions and toying with the mind and that’s what Vadim had done when he had walked by Sam. He wanted Sam to feel guilty over the wraiths’ deaths because he was a monster and that’s what monsters did. Sam had done nothing wrong; he had captured the bad guys and saved a whole bunch of people and that’s what he was supposed to do.

Loki glared at him from across the room.

Sam resolutely ignored him, hoisting his book a little higher so he wouldn’t have the displeasure of having to look at the temperamental trickster. He didn’t like Loki very much; the creature was far too moody. He wasn’t entirely certain why Dean had picked such a human-loathing monster. 

Loki huffed in disgust and stood, stalking towards the stairs, probably so he could brood over his hatred for humans in his room. 

Castiel watched him go before returning to his _Tolkien_ novel. The angel was a fast reader and in three days he had finished _‘The Hobbit’_ and had started on the first of the _‘Lord of the Rings’_ trilogy. Sam wondered if he enjoyed the books or if he was reading them for lack of anything better to do.

Dean’s heavy footsteps banged down the stairs and Sam glanced up as he bustled into the room, holding his phone and police badge.

“Werewolves in the park. Wild ones. They’re holding three kids hostage. Let’s go.”

Sam leapt to his feet and grabbed his jacket. His badge was already inside because unlike Dean, he remembered to leave it in there for emergencies like this. They ran to the door but paused before leaving.

“Stay out of our rooms and make yourselves useful whilst we’re gone,” Dean said sternly, turning back to Castiel. The angel gazed up at him coolly, wings high and stiff behind his back. 

“Of course, Sir.” 

Without further ado, the brothers locked the door behind them and hopped into the Impala.

When they arrived at the park, there was chaos.

A pack of werewolves (at least six) in their wolf form were snarling and baring their teeth at anyone who dared try to edge closer to rescue the three whimpering human children they were holding hostage. One woman with short black hair and brown eyes was standing near the pack, face red with anger as she too bared her teeth at anyone who came near. Her canines were slightly elongated and sharpened, signaling she too was a werewolf. None of the seven wore a collar and their shaggy fur (and in the case of the woman, her worn clothing) was enough to tell Sam and Dean that this pack was indeed from the wild; one of the uncaptured ones.

“Give me my daughter!” The uncollared woman screamed furiously, slashing out at a man who tried to sneak up on her from behind. One of the wolves, black with white patches, bounded forwards and pinned him to the ground, jaws poised around his throat. The man gasped, eyes wide as he lay still underneath the creature’s huge paws.

Dean patted the silver knife in his back pocket and the small tranquiliser pistol holstered at his belt before clicking the safety trigger off his gun, Sam mirroring him. Werewolves were fast and both Sam and Dean had been underneath them before they’d managed to raise a gun. That’s why they carried the knives.

Sam circled left around the outskirts of the park, Dean ducking right until they were opposite one another and directly perpendicular to the main cluster of wolves. They edged forwards, mostly hidden amongst the crowds of panicking and fearful public. Mothers held children protectively to their chests as fathers ushered them frantically to cars. Some people stared on in horror as the wolves snarled and stepped in front of the crying children they had claimed. Others continued to taunt the wolves, trying to distract them long enough to rescue the children. A few monsters watched on curiously.

Sam had the best shot of the wolves through the masses and he crouched low and aimed his gun, nodding his head to signal for Dean to do his part.

Dean whistled for the monsters’ attention and they whipped their heads round to him when he yelled at them. They growled and bared their teeth, lowering their ears when they saw his badge.

“Where’s my daughter?!” Hissed the woman beside them and Dean narrowed his eyes, holding his hands up placatingly. 

“How about we all just calm down and talk this over and no one has to get hurt?” He wiggled his gun warningly.

The woman scrunched her face up in anger. “Give me my daughter!” She snarled, the other pack members barking and shuffling their paws, ready for a fight.

Dean’s mouth drew into a thin line. “Let the kids go and we can talk.”

One of the wolves, large and brown, rumbled deep in its chest and stood over the sobbing children. They appeared unharmed, at least.

“My daughter,” demanded the woman darkly. “Or we take them.”

A blonde woman to Dean’s left cried out in anguish, cheeks stained with tears and hands outstretched towards the scene. The mother.

Dean tensed and shook his head. “Look, just let the kids go. They’ve done nothing wrong.”

“They’re human!” The woman snarled. “Filthy monsters!”

Dean tightened his grip on his gun and waved it once more for emphasis.

“Let the children go. That isn’t a request. Then we’ll talk.”

“More like tie one of those death devices around our necks,” spat the woman. “Bring me my daughter and we’ll go in peace.”

“This is your last chance,” warned Dean. “Let them go.”

The woman snorted and made a strange sound with her throat and suddenly, a black wolf came galloping towards Dean, jaws gaping.

There was the crack of a bullet and the creature slumped to the floor, dead.

The black-haired woman screamed out in horror, the other wolves staring in shock at their fallen pack mate.

“Release the children,” Dean said darkly, his own gun still fully loaded.

The woman quickly morphed into a black and white wolf and barked out a few wordless commands.

The brown wolf began dragging the children backwards as his pack crowded around him and the other black and white wolf, the male, charged at Dean with a furious howl.

Dean fired a warning shot at his paws and he scrabbled backwards, snarling and barking at the hunter.

Protocol was to capture these creatures and restrain them in order for them to be sent for rehabilitation and collar fitting. Dean wondered how he was going to capture six wild wolves.

The black and white male decided to try his luck whilst Dean was eying up the brown wolf. He raced towards Dean once more and was promptly shot in the leg. He fell with a whimper and began limping towards his pack, so Dean quickly switched guns and fired a tranquiliser dart into his rump. The wolf yelped, swayed on his feet after a few moments and tumbled to the floor once more.

Suddenly, Sam cried out in pain and Dean whipped his head around to find his brother pinned under a chocolate-coloured wolf, its teeth dangerously close to Sam’s face.

Dean reloaded the tranquiliser as fast as he could, but when it finally lodged itself into the wolf’s side, Dean could see Sam had a deep set of claw marks carved into his face. He stared at his brother anxiously until Sam offered him a silent thumbs-up as he dragged himself to his feet.

The wolves glanced between the two hunters, panicked and the black and white female barked out another order, this one more stressed than the last. The remaining four wolves backed up a little before turning towards the forest.

However, the brown one paused as its pack mates broke into a sprint and it whirled to face the children, jaws wide as its head descended on the youngest girl…

Sam shot it clean through the skull.

The creature staggered and collapsed in a matter of seconds, blood pooling around it.

The blonde woman from earlier sobbed in relief and ran to her children, pulling them into her arms as her tears soaked their clothes. They whimpered into her chest and she turned slightly to glance at Sam and Dean’s approaching figures. 

“Thank you,” she choked out, hugging her children tighter and both Winchesters nodded with small smiles before turning to the two unconscious wolves.

“I’ll call _Chainmail_ ’s restraint services. You call the Dead Man,” said Sam as he pulled out his phone. Dean scrutinised the side of his brother’s face for a moment, lips turning downwards at the deep gashes before he nodded and fished his own phone out of his pocket.

 _Chainmail_ arrived in less than twenty minutes to take away the unconscious wolves and Sam and Dean only left the scene when the Dead Man arrived an hour later.

Nobody spared a thought for the werewolf’s missing daughter.

 

* * *

 

Sam stumbled into the house with a pounding skull and a throbbing face. He collapsed onto the couch and tried not to think about the blood pouring down his face and onto the hoovered carpet.

Castiel and Loki both startled at his appearance but neither made a move to approach him as Dean swore and tried to get him to lie down. 

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit. Don’t move,” Dean said as he jogged out of the room.

Sam closed his eyes and focused on breathing. It wasn’t the first time he’d been sliced up by a monster and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but his face was really killing him and he just wanted some ice.

His eyes flew open when he heard soft footsteps pad towards him. Definitely not Dean’s.

He glanced over to find Castiel hovering a couple of feet away, inspecting his wound with a small frown. After a few moments of hesitation, the angel gingerly reached out but paused when Loki hissed out a sharp _“Castiel!”_

The angel ignored him and continued his mission until Sam gripped his wrist when it came too close to his torn-up cheek. He scowled at the angel in question.

“I can help with that,” Castiel said quietly. “I’m more effective than any drug.”

Sam’s scowl softened. That did sound tempting.

“Castiel,” Loki scolded quietly. “Remember who you’re dealing with.”

“He’s in pain,” Castiel muttered, making Loki grind his teeth together.

“So are we,” hissed the trickster. “And they’re the cause!”

Castiel shook his head and otherwise ignored him as he gazed at Sam, head tilted slightly. The youngest Winchester wondered if this could be a trick to hurt him further. After a few moments, the throbbing in his face made his decision for him.

Sam released the angel’s wrist. “Okay,” he murmured.

Without any hesitation, Castiel placed two gentle fingers to Sam’s head and the hunter closed his eyes as a soothing coolness swept through his body like a blanket of fine silk. Immediately, the pain vanished along with the headache and when Sam touched his fingers to his cheek, the wound had also disappeared.

Castiel pulled away and took a step backwards.

“Fetch him some water, Loki,” Castiel murmured as he helped Sam to sit upright.

The trickster opened his mouth to protest, but after a sharp look from Castiel, Loki huffed and marched into the kitchen.

Sam watched as he opened the top cupboard, where the glasses were kept. The trickster wasn’t tall enough to reach the first glass and he struggled for a few moments, even jumping to try and snag it, only for his efforts to prove useless. With a sigh, the trickster snapped his fingers and the glass catapulted into his hand.

Then he winced and held his neck in pain.

Sam frowned.

“Are you alright, Master?” Came a soft, gravelly voice, startling Sam into looking at Castiel. 

“Huh?”

“Is there any lingering pain?” Castiel asked patiently.

The younger Winchester traced his fingers over his healed cheek. “Ah, no. No, I’m… great, actually.” That was a neat trick.

Castiel bowed his head and moved away before Sam had a chance to say anything else. He perched silently on the couch and returned to his book. Sam stared at him in surprise and startled again when Loki pressed a glass of cool water into his hands. He didn’t look too happy about it and before Sam opened his mouth, the trickster joined the angel’s side and looked away moodily.

That was the moment his brother chose to return. He stared at Sam’s healed face, glanced at the angel and trickster, who looked as though they hadn’t moved an inch since he’d left, looked down to the first aid kit in his hand and frowned in confusion.

“Uh…” he said intelligently.

Sam stared at Castiel and Dean followed his gaze, lifting a surprised eyebrow as the angel turned a page.

Castiel finally raised his gaze to glance at Dean blandly.

“I can heal,” he said before returning his attention to his book.

Dean nodded a little absently. “Right.” He glanced at the first aid kit. “I’ll put this away then.”

He trotted off once more, leaving Sam alone with Castiel and Loki.

“Thank you,” he said to both of them before taking a sip of water.

“Of course, Master,” Castiel murmured as though he didn’t believe him.

Sam frowned at his glass and wondered why he felt dirty.

 

* * *

 

Sam watched Loki and Castiel trot upstairs to their room, one of the trickster’s hands buried deep between Castiel’s feathers and the angel’s wing leaning into his touch. Once he was sure the pair had vanished, he grazed his fingers gently over his cheek and glanced at Dean.

“…Castiel did a good job,” he murmured quietly and Dean turned to his brother, eyes roaming over his face before he nodded in approval. 

“He did.”

Sam dropped his gaze to his knees. “Do you think Loki can heal?”

Dean shrugged and sipped at his beer. “Don’t see why not. Tricksters are supposed to be really powerful, right?”

Sam hesitated, shifting awkwardly until Dean sighed and eyed his brother unimpressed, waiting for him to spill whatever was clearly on his mind.

“Did you give him any leeway with his powers?” Sam finally blurted.

Dean frowned in confusion. “Huh?”

Sam pursed his lips. “Loki. When you signed his ability request form, did you allow him any powers or did you block all of them? Because today, I watched him struggle to reach a glass from the top shelf and eventually, he just… willed it into his hand and he got shocked for it. He got punished for _moving a glass._ ” Sam frowned in disapproval at his brother. “Didn’t you grant him any leeway?”

Dean appeared puzzled for a moment before his expression gradually changed into one of embarrassment as he let his head fall down into his hands.

“Oh man, I completely forgot about the ability request form. I never filled it in because I adopted him straight from the station. He’s still running off whatever the last document had him down for.”

Sam blinked. “He has no powers, at all. Whoever signed his last form must have really hated him.”

Dean shook his head, thoughtfully. “His last owner was working him as a hooker. They probably never filled the form out either so they wouldn’t have to disclose Loki’s or their job. That means he’s working off the form from the owner before that.”

“Which was…?” Sam prodded.

Dean shrugged. “Don’t know. Papers say he was raised on a farm until the age of twelve and after that, his history is blank. It’s like he just stopped existing and I can’t get the full story out of him. He’s only willing to tell me snippets about the owner we found him with and even then he says he doesn’t know the guy’s real name. Don’t know what went on in his past.”

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise before he frowned again and eyed his brother sternly.

“You need to fill that form in,” he said.

Dean nodded and held a hand up in apology. “I will.”

“Don’t forget,” Sam huffed and Dean held both hands up this time, beer bottle dangling between his thumb and forefinger.

“I won’t,” he promised.

 

* * *

 

Another week rolled by and thoughts of ability request documents fluttered out of Dean’s mind like insignificant moths.

Loki remained grumpy and bitter as he glared at Sam and Dean whenever he encountered them and even Castiel appeared to be growing more and more unhappy every time the trickster was shocked for something as simple as magicking open a particularly stubborn jar. He began narrowing his eyes more at Sam and Dean and trying his best to use his own magic to help Loki whenever he could.

Dean frowned at his deactivator. It had played up in the last case where they’d needed to remove a small collar which was cutting into a teenage vampire’s skin. When he’d try to enter the collar’s serial code into the device’s display, none of the letter keys were working. Dean had wondered if he could fix it at home, but now he could see the circuit board was completely fried, he knew he was going to have to buy a new one.

He walked downstairs with the broken device.

“I’ll have to send my deactivator back and get a new one,” he called out to Sam, who was reading in the living room.

Loki’s head swiveled so fast, Sam idly wondered if his neck might break. Even Castiel had just glanced up sharply to focus on the black device in halves in Dean’s hands.

“Order a new one and throw that one in a bag,” Sam shrugged. They wouldn’t be issued with a new one if the old one wasn’t returned; it was how _Chainmail_ stopped their deactivators from being picked up by people who might do something stupid, like free every human-eating monster from their collars. Some people were weird like that. They thought monsters should be able to walk freely amongst humans without any form of constraint.

Dean nodded contemplatively, glancing over the broken deactivator.

Loki’s eyes were wide as he stared at the machine, as if he’d just had an epiphany as to why he and Castiel weren’t allowed in the Winchesters’ rooms.

“You have deactivators?” He blurted before he could stop himself and Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hunter unit,” Dean said slowly as if Loki was a particularly dim-witted child. He glanced at the broken deactivator and strode into the kitchen to grab a bag.

Loki and Castiel’s eyes followed him out of the room and Sam watched as the trickster’s gaze lingered on nothing for a moment, contemplative as his mind raced with a hundred different ideas before he finally twisted into a more comfortable position on the couch. 

Sam stared at him warily, gaze eventually tracking to Castiel’s equally as pensive expression.

“Stay out of our rooms,” Sam warned, because he thought it might be necessary and Castiel lowered his gaze to his book as the trickster shot Sam a tight smile.

“Of course,” Loki hummed and Sam didn’t believe him.

Dean re-emerged from the kitchen with a bag containing the broken deactivator and he vanished upstairs again to call _Chainmail_ to order a new machine.

Loki smirked.


	4. Chapter 4

The doorbell sounded obnoxiously and Loki rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was eight o’clock on a Saturday morning and it appeared as though he was the only one awake. 

At another insistent ring of the bell, Loki gently carded his fingers through Castiel’s wing and untangled himself from the angel’s grip. He slipped out of bed and watched the angel frown, eyes fluttering open as he regarded Loki curiously.

“Back in a minute,” he promised, reaching out to smooth a few of Castiel’s feathers into place. The angel immediately leaned into his touch and Loki smiled. He would never lose this angel again; he would make sure of it. 

He clicked his fingers and jeans and a shirt appeared on his body, replacing the boxers and vest he had been wearing in bed. Then he grimaced as his collar buzzed quietly and delivered a medium voltage through his neck. Castiel scowled and sat up, wings twitching in distress as he reached out to the trickster, but Loki quickly dismissed his concern with a careless wave.

He strode out of the room and padded down the stairs, rolling his eyes when the bell blared once more. He opened it a little irritably and glared at the delivery man outside. Then he noticed the _Chainmail_ uniform and the parcel tucked under his arm and his eyes lit up as plan swirled around his mind.

The delivery man, a small man with greying hair and sharp blue eyes, stared distrustingly at Loki, stepping backwards slightly.

“Parcel for Dean Winchester,” he stated.

Loki nodded. “A deactivator, right?” He said. “I’m his pet. I’ll give it to him if you like. I think he’s sleeping.”

The delivery man didn’t look impressed. He shook his head as Loki stretched his arms out, ready to take the package.

“I need him to sign for it. Also, he should have a package ready for me.”

Loki nodded again. “He does. It’s in his room. If you pass me the new one, I’ll bring him down for you. He’ll probably want to check there’s no faults with the new one before he trades in the old one.” He held his hands out expectantly.

The delivery guy almost smiled. “Do you really think I haven’t come across this trick before?” He eyed the collar around Loki’s neck. “Company policy is to never hand over deactivators to monsters. I’m not stupid.”

Loki plastered on a fake smile. “Why?” He asked innocently. “What’s wrong with me passing the delivery onto my owner?”

The delivery guy snorted. “Fetch your master, abomination. Otherwise I take this back to the van.”

There was the sound of heavy footsteps racing down the stairs and Loki’s smile faltered. He glared at the delivery guy and watched with a sinking heart as Dean stormed over, bag in hand and shoved him non-too-gently out of the way.

He stumbled and glared at Dean with renewed hatred in his eyes and his collar detected his rapidly souring mood and punished him for it. He tensed and crossed his arms, trying to clear his mind lest he get zapped again.

“Sorry about him, he’s not trained yet,” apologised Dean.

“Yeah, sometimes I pee on the carpets,” Loki grated out, popping his head around the door to smile tightly at the delivery man.

The delivery guy snorted and shook his head in disgust as he handed Dean a clipboard and refused to look at Loki.

“You want to turn the voltage settings higher on its collar. That’ll sort it out,” the guy said wisely and Dean chuckled as he signed for the parcel.

Loki’s eyes widened and he fell silent, quickly dropping his gaze in fear of Dean actually following through with the suggestion. The delivery guy sneered at his actions.

“See? Not so chatty now, are ya, _freak_?”

Loki flinched, ducking behind the door to keep out of view as Dean returned the clipboard and handed over the bag of broken deactivator. The delivery man passed Dean the new parcel and Dean waved him goodbye before closing the door and taking his package upstairs without sparing Loki a glance.

Loki waited for him to disappear before slowly trailing up the stairs and sliding into bed beside Castiel.

The angel stared at him sadly and Loki knew he’d heard every word. He dropped his gaze embarrassedly and Castiel quickly drew him into his arms, wrapping his wings around him protectively as he tugged him into his chest.

He felt a soothing energy sweep through his body, cool and relaxing and Loki knew Castiel had just healed his neck of his latest burns and bruises.

He snuggled deeper into Castiel’s chest, snaking his arms around the angel as he closed his eyes and dozed off once more.

 

* * *

 

A couple of days later saw Dean and Sam returning from a hunt involving some pesky fairies which had given them the run-around. They were exhausted and hungry and had no time for infuriating tricksters and aggressively squinty angels.

Which was why they were suspicious when they trudged into the house and Loki greeted them with a bright smile and some delicious-smelling cookies. 

“Good evening!” Chirped Loki. “How was work today? You two look exhausted.” He thrust the plate of cookies at them enthusiastically. “Cookie?”

Sam and Dean glanced at one another but their lack of lunch and breakfast was starting to take a toll on their stomachs. They gingerly grabbed a cookie each and sniffed at them warily before taking a small bite. Loki continued to smile and Castiel raised a confused eyebrow at the scene.

“Want me to cook you guys some dinner? Or I could snap up some takeaway if you’d like?” Grinned Loki. “Your choice.”

Sam and Dean once again shared a stunned glance, unsure what to make of the trickster’s kindness.

Loki shuffled off to place the plate of cookies on the coffee table in front of the couch. He bounced back over to the Winchesters and clasped his hands together. 

“Why don’t you guys change out of your uniforms and slip into something more comfortable? Cassie and I don’t mind if you wanna wear your PJs, right, Cas?”

The angel blinked and didn’t get time to answer before Loki practically skipped forwards, hands outstretched towards the Winchesters.

“Here, let me take your jackets and you guys can hurry on upstairs.”

Too surprised to do anything but agree, the Winchesters began tugging their jackets off to pass to the trickster. Just as he was handing his coat over, Dean paused and huffed out a quiet laugh of realisation. 

“I’ll just take this out first, shall I?” He drawled, removing his deactivator from his pocket and he smirked as Loki’s expression fell into one of aggravation. Sam snatched the deactivator from his pocket as Dean threw his leather jacket at Loki’s waiting arms.

“Takeout sounds great,” chuckled Dean as he toyed with his deactivator, taunting Loki with it. “Come on, Sam. Give Loki your coat and let’s _‘slip into something more comfortable’_ ,” he mocked as he sauntered away, whistling cheerily as he climbed the stairs.

Sam dumped his coat in Loki’s arms and frowned at the trickster’s heated glare before following his brother.

“Better luck next time, yeah?” Called Dean with an amused grin. “I want sweet and sour pork by the way.”

He heard Loki curse violently before he slid into his room with a cackle.

 

* * *

 

It was a Tuesday. Sam thought Tuesdays were the worst day of the week; they weren’t the beginning of the week after a long, restful weekend and they weren’t the end of the week, where you could look forward to a break. They weren’t even the middle of the week, where you could convince yourself that you deserved a little chocolatey treat for getting through half the week – a treat that Dean didn’t need to know about because his little brother was supposed to be the one who encouraged healthy eating and organic vegetables, not hoarding as many Twix bars as mathematically possible under the broken floorboard beneath his bed.

Tuesdays were just Tuesdays.

This particular Tuesday was dragging incredibly slowly. Work had been dull with no cases and very little paperwork and now it was seven o’clock and still light outside. Sam had decided to do a little bit of gardening in the warm Summer air whilst his brother was off at the local bar, drowning his liver and potentially eying up women he wanted to play Twister with in bed.

Don’t get him wrong, Sam liked sex and women, he just didn’t share the genes of a rabbit like his brother did.

He frowned at a particularly stubborn dandelion. 

“Want me to come over and give it a jerk?”

Sam whipped his head up at the sultry purr, cheeks flushed red at the innuendo. He looked up to find a beautiful, golden-haired woman leaning over the fence, amber eyes sparkling in amusement as full, red lips curled into a smile. 

Sam stood to his full height and the woman’s gaze raked over his body with blatant interest, one fine eyebrow raised as she bit her lip seductively. She stood upright after a few moments of admiring Sam’s toned muscles (during which time, Sam had flushed an even deeper crimson) and blinked slowly, eyelids painted dark purple with extravagant flares highlighting the length of her eyelashes.

Her cherry dress was short yet stylish and Sam tried not to notice how voluptuous her breasts were, seemingly in danger of spilling out over the top of the dress. A red faux fur scarf looped once around her neck, its ends draped over her bare chest, elegant and soft-looking.

“Hi,” the woman smirked, intense gaze focused on Sam’s face and the younger Winchester coughed and scratched the back of his neck, unsure where to put his gaze in fear of letting it settle on the woman’s body.

“Uh… hi,” he muttered back quietly and the woman chuckled until he looked up again.

“You always this smooth when you talk to the opposite sex?” She hummed.

Sam opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head and forcing himself to relax.

“Sam,” he said, offering his hand over the fence and the woman took it with perfectly manicured nails and a lazy smile.

“Elise.”

“I… haven’t seen you around before,” said Sam before tilting his head curiously. “Why are you in my neighbours’ back garden?”

The woman smiled the way a young female might smile if she found out her sugar daddy was in hospital for a severe internal parasite infection and she knew she was already written into the will.

“I’m their estranged niece from Miami. I don’t visit much but when I do, everyone has a good time. Even the neighbours.” She eyed Sam hungrily. “ _Especially_ the neighbours.”

Sam coughed lightly and released her hand. She looked amused at his awkwardness.

“Uncle tells me you’re a cop,” she hummed, leaning on the fence again.

Sam nodded and Elise winked. “Always loved a man in uniform.”

Sam dropped his gaze and shuffled his feet. The woman’s eyes were beautiful yet familiar and he couldn’t place why.

“You should come around sometime,” Elise said. “Have a few drinks, something to eat…. Check out the guest room?” She smirked and Sam’s ears burned at the insinuations. She was gorgeous and Sam didn't know what to do with her boldness.

“Um… yeah. That would be… that would be awesome,” he mumbled.

Elise smirked as she inspected her red talons. “So, what branch are you in, Officer?”

“…Hunter unit,” Sam replied, finally scraping up the courage to look at her flawless face again. She raised an interested eyebrow.

“Really?” She asked. Her eyes were so familiar.

Sam nodded again and she paused contemplatively. “Hey, I know we’ve only just met and all and this might seem rather… rude, but I have a pet witch and her collar is, well, she’s been complaining about it a lot. Usually, I’d ignore her because she’s always complaining about something or the other, but I’ve noticed her tugging at it as if’s too tight. I was wondering if you maybe had anything that I could borrow to fix that? It’ll literally take a couple of minutes.”

Sam frowned. He wasn’t allowed to hand out police-supplied equipment to civilians. Elise noticed his hesitancy.

“You guys carry deactivators, right?” She added quickly. “I was wondering if I could borrow it for a couple of minutes. Just to check the collar is working. I wouldn’t like her to actually be suffering, you know?”

She shrugged a shoulder and the faux fur scarf slipped an inch downwards, revealing a slither of silver hugging her neck.

Sam lifted an eyebrow and realised why the eyes were familiar. He plastered on a smile.

“Of course not. What’s your pet’s name?” He asked and Elise relaxed, blinking slowly at him now she thought he was on board with her plan.

“Daniella,” she hummed. Sam tilted his head.

“Cool. What’s your uncle’s name?”

Elise paused, eyes widening fractionally as Sam’s smile morphed into a knowing smirk. When it was clear she didn’t have an answer, he reached forwards and snatched the scarf from her neck, revealing a silver collar.

He eyed her coldly. “You’re not supposed to be outside.”

The woman’s face shifted into an expression of contempt as she glared at Sam. “Bite me.”

“Get out of Rufus’ garden and return to your natural form,” Sam growled.

Loki sneered. “Maybe this is my natural form,” he (she?) snapped.

Sam snorted. “Get inside, now. You’re lucky Dean’s not here. He’d have his thumb on his activator right now.”

Loki snarled and hopped over the fence, shoving Sam’s shoulder with his (her?) own before storming into the house and morphing into his natural male form, the dress being replaced by his usual attire.

He suddenly doubled over, clutching his neck as the collar punished him for using such a large burst of magic. A small grunt of pain escaped his lips.

Sam shook his head and continued gardening.

 

* * *

 

Loki’s next attempt at stealing Sam’s deactivator was a lot simpler. He was wandering to his room one Friday night and he noticed Sam slipping into his room in a hurry, obviously searching for something. He left his door slightly ajar and Loki slithered towards it, silently watching the hunter head towards his night stand.

Sam and Dean were apparently visiting some old friends at some ratty old bar Loki had never heard of called _‘The Roadhouse’_. They mentioned something about an Ellen and a Jo Harvelle and a few others he couldn’t quiet remember, nor cared to meet.

Sam pulled open the top drawer of his nightstand and Loki perked up as he spotted the deactivator perched next to the latest book Sam was reading. Sam grabbed the book and Loki ducked into the bathroom as the hunter raced out of his room, locking his door behind him. He ran downstairs, Dean calling his name impatiently and Loki sped into his and Castiel’s room, the angel glancing at him curiously.

“On the bed,” Loki ordered quickly and Castiel did as asked without hesitation, frowning when Loki joined him. The trickster clicked his fingers and Castiel’s eyes widened as Sam’s deactivator appeared in his hand.

Loki groaned and doubled over, the collar protesting his magic as it sparked and buzzed vehemently.

Castiel gasped and reached out for the trickster, pouring healing magic into his body. Loki relaxed into the angel’s hands and sat upright again.

“Do you know your serial code?” Asked Loki quickly, voice urgent. The collar’s serial number could only be found on the inside of the restraint; where it hugged the wearer’s neck. It couldn’t be seen when the collar was locked in place. The other place the serial number could be found was on the matching activator button, which was kept by the owner so as to prevent monsters from ever seeing their own serial code.

Luckily, the care home had been rather careless with where they left Castiel’s activator and he had never forgotten the series of letters and numbers that marked him a slave to humanity.

Loki had to be a little sneakier to find out his own code, but fortunately, his second owner had been an alcoholic and he’d managed to snatch the button from his pocket for all of five seconds, just enough time to remember his serial number, before the old man had woken up and beat him half to death for his insolence.

“Yes,” said Castiel.

 

* * *

 

“You’re so slow,” complained Dean as the brothers made their way towards the door.

Sam held his book up. “Ash said he wanted to read King’s _‘Pet Sematary’_. I’ve got a couple of other books I haven’t read yet, so thought I’d let Ash read this one. He’s a quick reader anyway; I’ll get it back soon and finish it off.”

Dean frowned. “So, if he wants to read _Pet Sematary_ , why have you got _‘Cujo’_?”

Sam glanced at the book in his hand and stopped. Dean was indeed correct; he did have _Cujo_ in his hand.

That’s right; he’d finished _Pet Sematary_ three nights ago. He was now in the middle of _Cujo_. He was quite the fan of Stephen King.

“One second,” Sam apologised before racing up the stairs again, ignoring Dean’s groans.

He threw the novel in his top drawer and was about to turn to his book shelf when he noticed something missing. He spun around to his drawer again, eyes blowing wide as he stared at the empty spot his deactivator had been situated in not a minute before.

His first instinct was to search his room for the device, but he ignored that instinct in favour of listening to his more logical side. 

Castiel and Loki were being awfully quiet.

He sprinted out of his room and barged through their door. He was greeted by the scene of Loki hastily entering numbers into his deactivator, Castiel’s fingers resting on his collar as he waited for that little beep and soft click, signalling his collar was offline.

Sam surged forwards before Loki had a chance to complete the sequence and the trickster yelped and kicked out at him as they wrestled for the device. Just as Sam grasped the deactivator, strong arms wrapped around his middle and hauled him away from Loki, allowing the trickster to continue his mission.

Castiel held fast as Sam struggled against him and he could hear the quiet buzz of the angel’s collar as it reacted to the surge of adrenaline throughout his bloodstream. The angel grunted softly after the first few shocks, each one slowly increasing in strength and Sam thrashed wildly, yelling for his brother.

“DEAN!”

There was a beep and a quiet click and Sam paled as Castiel’s collar deactivated, Loki rushing to insert his own serial code into the deactivator. Castiel’s strength suddenly increased tenfold and Sam knew he had no chance of escaping now the angel’s powers were fully unleashed. Still, he managed to kick his long legs out far enough to hit Loki’s jaw and the trickster cradled his bruised face, momentarily forgetting about the deactivator. Castiel grit his teeth in fury and sent a burst of energy through Sam’s body, knocking him out cold.

Dean stormed through the door a couple of seconds later, gun cocked and eyes wild when he spotted his unconscious brother sprawled over the bed.

“Angel-killing bullets,” he spat at the pair, aiming his gun at Castiel. “Either of you even twitch and I paint the wall with Feathers’ brain. Throw the deactivator over here. Now.”

Loki paused, glancing between the seething Castiel and the enraged Dean. Dean’s finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger.

Loki sagged in defeat and threw the device over to Dean. It landed at his feet.

Castiel’s wings flicked and Dean glared at him. “You’re not quicker than a bullet.”

“I could pin you against that wall with a flick of my wrist,” Castiel growled, his usually placid demeanour vanishing.

“A bullet’s still quicker,” drawled Dean. He snapped his gaze to Loki. “Put that collar back on him.”

Loki hesitated and Dean narrowed his eyes, gesturing to his gun. “Put that collar on him or I’ll shoot.” His gun was actually loaded with silver bullets, but the monsters didn't need to know he hadn't had time to switch the cartridge over.

The trickster closed his eyes, subdued and picked up Castiel’s collar.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he clicked it into place around Castiel’s neck and the angel felt his powers dim with his strength.

He slumped, wings drooping in disappointment. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Castiel murmured quietly.

Dean didn’t lower his gun as he glanced sharply at Castiel. “Whatever you did to Sam, fix it.”

The angel glared at Dean, hatred burning in his eyes. “He’ll wake up in an hour or so. He’s merely unconscious.”

Dean wiggled the gun for emphasis. “Fix him, _now._ ”

Castiel stared at the gun for a moment before heaving out a sigh and placing two fingers to Sam’s forehead. The younger hunter bolted upright, eyes wide and fearful. He glanced between Loki and Castiel and leapt off the bed, backing up towards his brother, who finally lowered his weapon.

Suddenly, Sam shoved a hand into his pocket and pullet out a small, black cylindrical device, no bigger than a pen cap. He flipped open the lid to reveal a red button and both monsters’ eyes rounded as they stiffened.

Sam pressed the button.

Castiel made a choked sound and scrabbled at his collar as a stream of electricity raced through his body, steadily growing stronger until Sam released the button four seconds later. He could smell his own roasting flesh.

His breathing quickened, sweat beading over his forehead as he tried to relax his tight muscles and Sam eyed him with disgust before whirling on his heel and marching out of the room.

“Let’s go,” he muttered to his brother and Dean stared at both monsters for a moment, unimpressed before joining Sam.

They slammed the door behind them and Loki immediately pulled Castiel into his arms and held him close, letting him bury his face into his neck as he tried to calm his breathing. Castiel curled his wings around them both and healed their injuries, clutching Loki’s jacket as he bit back a frustrated scream.

Loki felt the bruise on his jaw fade and he fisted one of the angel’s wings, both of them sharing one another’s spite and hatred and frustration for the Winchesters.

“I’ll set us free,” promised Loki. “Even if I have to kill them to do it.”

They held each other closer.

 

* * *

 

Loki set his last plan into motion exactly a week later. Tensions had been running high between the Winchesters and their pets and both Winchesters had been overly curt and demanding of Castiel and Loki since the night they had almost escaped. They had no sympathy or time for their monsters and thought nothing of waving their activators at them if they didn’t do as ordered. Castiel and Loki had slaved away for hours each day, cleaning and cooking, fixing things and organising, all at the Winchesters’ command. They were lucky if their masters were willing to spare them one meal a day and more often than not, they pair were expected to snap their own food out of thin air so as not to waste the Winchesters resources; a feat that had devastating effects for Loki every time.

So, fuelled by fury and loathing, Loki crept into the kitchen at two a.m., grabbed the largest cooking knife he could find and stood outside Dean's door, trying to calm his murderous rage so his collar would stop shocking him. He didn’t bother opening the door, in case its creak alerted Dean to his presence and he disappeared from the corridor and reappeared in Dean’s bedroom, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from grunting at the sharp sting of his collar.

He slunk forwards, knife clutched tightly in his hand and hoped Dean stored his deactivator in exactly the same place as his brother.

He stood over the bed, staring at the sleeping Dean with a sick sort of glee as he readied his knife. Once he killed Dean, he would be sentenced to death by law, but they’d have to catch him first and he was very good at hiding when he wanted to. Besides, he had more than himself to worry about; he had Castiel to take care of too and no one was allowed to touch the angel. He wouldn’t let them. He couldn’t lose Castiel again.

He gripped his knife tighter and angled it towards the human’s neck. He pulled back, ready to launch it into Dean’s throat.

The tip was three centimetres from Dean’s skin when his eyes flew open. 

He grasped Loki’s wrist and the trickster bared his teeth and used his free hand to slam Dean’s chin backwards, exposing his throat further. With his other hand, Dean gripped Loki’s arm and shoved, freeing his neck. He tried to scrabble to the opposite side of the double bed so Loki wouldn’t be able to reach him, but Loki quickly tired of his wiggling and straddled him, pinning him to the mattress. Dean managed to yank the trickster’s knife-wielding hand to one side as he kneed the other man in the crotch and Loki grunted before wrapping his hand around Dean’s throat and squeezing until the hunter choked out a strangled cough.

With a surge of adrenaline and desperation, Loki swung the knife down towards Dean’s stomach, but Dean threw his fist upwards, impacting Loki’s jaw hard. The trickster hissed in pain and Dean quickly gripped his wrists whilst he was momentarily distracted. Loki snarled and ripped his arms out of Dean’s hold, tearing the bed covers off Dean’s body so he had better access. Dean quickly grabbed for his wrists as Loki thrust the knife at his stomach and the trickster twisted in frustration, frantically trying to escape Dean’s hold until he gave in after a few moments and smashed his head into Dean’s.

They both groaned softly and released one another. Loki was the first to recover and as the knife sailed towards his chest, Dean put a hand out to protect himself. The knife slashed through his palm and he cried out before punching the trickster square in the face and twisting his arm at a painful angle until Loki was forced to drop the weapon. They struggled in silence for a few minutes, even resorting to clawing at one another before Dean wrapped his legs around the trickster’s waist and flipped their positions so he was on top.

He pinned Loki’s arms above his head and didn’t expect the powerful kick to his groin. He grunted in pain and Loki’s hands sprung to his neck, squeezing as hard as he could. Panicked as he felt his air supply completely cut out, Dean grabbed the discarded knife and stabbed blindly at anything within reach. Loki cried out as the blade sliced through his cheek and the loosened grip allowed Dean to drop the knife and grab his hands.

“Just die already,” hissed Loki as he kneed Dean in the crotch again but this time, the hunter held fast and he smirked darkly as he watched Loki’s collar work on overtime to deter him from his hostility.

Taking a chance, Dean punched Loki’s jaw once more and scrambled towards his nightstand. He opened his drawer and yelped when a blade struck his calf and Loki tried to drag him backwards. Dean already had what he wanted though and he kicked out with his injured leg, his foot smashing into Loki’s rib cage. The trickster groaned and Dean flipped himself over and allowed Loki to see the activator in his hand for all of one second before he popped open the cap and pressed the button.

Loki’s eyes widened before the shock hit him and he yelled in agony as Dean refused to release the button.

If the button was held for twenty seconds, the collar’s failsafe would be activated. For a demon, this would be a small holy water injection directly into the bloodstream; for an angel, holy oil. For a trickster, a small measure of one of his victim’s blood would enter his circulation. Each failsafe was agonising torture to its respective monster and resulted in the monster falling unconscious due to sheer pain. Failsafes had been known to kill monsters accidentally.

Dean held the button for nineteen seconds.

Loki’s yelling eventually became hair-raising screams as the voltage increased steadily with every passing second and he scrabbled at his collar, tumbling off the bed in his desperation. 

After ten seconds, Sam and Castiel burst into the room, eyes wide as they took in the scene of bloodied bed sheets, a bloodied knife and the sliced flesh of Dean and a screaming Loki.

“Stop!” Begged Castiel, horrified as he ran to the trickster. “Please, stop this!” He pleaded with Dean frantically.

After nineteen seconds, Dean released the button.

Loki slumped to the floor, gasping in oxygen as he stared unseeingly at the wall. He could feel blood trickling down his neck and he was nauseous with the smell of his own burning flesh. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he found himself paralysed, unable to move as pain throbbed through his neck and up to his head. 

He had been so close to finally being free.

He closed his eyes and his body shook with silent sobs.

“Son of a bitch tried to kill me,” he heard Dean growling to Sam. “I’m getting a stake.”

Sam merely nodded in understanding.

Castiel flared his wings in outrage, clenching his fists as his eyes flashed a bright blue. 

“Maybe if you had signed his papers, he wouldn’t have felt so desperate to escape you!” He roared, ignoring the buzzing of his collar. 

Dean shot him a heated glare and limped towards his door.

“Watch your tone, angel. You don’t want to meet the same fate as that filthy animal, do you?”

Castiel placed himself in front of Loki, wings raised high and wide in an attempt to intimidate both hunters.

“You won’t touch him,” he snarled. 

“Fine,” snapped Dean. “Die with him.” He left the room in search of a wooden stake.

Once he was gone, Castiel dropped to the floor, cradling Loki’s face gently as he pulsed healing magic through his body. The trickster whimpered softly and shifted until he could bury his face in Castiel’s neck, muffling his quiet crying. Castiel wrapped his wings around the trickster and stroked his hair tenderly, whispering soft reassurances into his ear.

Sam watched on curiously. He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around an angel and a trickster acting so protective and caring of one another. Surely, Castiel should be happy they were getting rid of Loki? Wasn’t he supposed to hate pagans?

He was surprised when pleading blue eyes, full of emotion, focused on him.

“Don’t kill him, please,” whispered Castiel, distressed. “This collar is torturing him, can’t you see? If you could just sign his papers… give him a little more freedom.” A stray tear slid down Castiel’s cheek. “Please. He’s in constant agony.”

Sam frowned and opened his mouth to respond when Dean reappeared with a small stake, coated in what appeared to be his own blood.

“Move,” he grunted at Castiel.

Castiel held Loki tighter.

“If you could just sign his papers,” he begged as Dean stalked towards him. “He can barely think without his collar reacting. Imagine what it must be like to be shocked every minute of your life. That’s practically what he is facing. If you could grant him a little freedom from the pain- ”

Dean snorted. “I don’t give murderers second chances.”

Loki pressed his face further into Castiel’s neck, whispering a quiet “I love you. I always will.”

Castiel’s wings curled tighter around the trickster, shielding him as much as possible from Dean’s view.

“He’s not a murderer!” Cried Castiel. “He’s being tortured because _you_ never signed those forms! He merely wants the pain to stop! He’ll do anything to make the pain stop!”

Sam placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“You never signed the ability forms?” He asked with a disapproving frown and Dean looked away.

“…I never found the time,” he said quietly. Sam scowled.

“You’ve had plenty of time,” Sam scolded. “I thought you promised you were going to send them off?”

Dean tilted his jaw up defensively. “Fine, I forgot, okay? But I’m not going to sign them now, am I? The thing just tried to carve my heart out!”

Sam pursed his lips. “If he really is going through all that agony, are you surprised he’s desperate to escape?”

Dean sagged slightly. “Well, no, but- ”

“Dean,” Sam admonished and Dean clamped his mouth shut, eyes hard. He flicked his gaze to Castiel.

“I thought we told you to stay out of our rooms?” He snapped.

Castiel blinked and glanced at Sam, who refused to look at him.

“Thank you, Sir,” Castiel murmured, bowing his head low before pulling Loki to his feet and ushering him towards the door.

Sam and Dean watched them leave and listened for the sound of a door closing across the corridor before the younger Winchester shot his brother a bitchface.

“Sign his papers,” he hissed before stalking out of the room in search of bandages for his brother's wounds.

Dean slammed his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~If you hate the two Winchesters clap your hands  
> If you want to hug poor Loki clap your hands  
> If you think Dean is an ass  
> And you utterly love Cas  
> If you hate the two Winchesters clap your hands~


	5. Chapter 5

Four days flew by, the Winchesters and their pets barely speaking to one another. Castiel and Loki tried mostly to stay out of their masters’ ways, even going so far as to not inhabit the same rooms as one another.

Dean had still not filled in the forms.

Wednesday morning, eight a.m., saw both Sam and Dean’s phones ringing urgently to alert them to a new emergency that required their assistance. 

Eight-fifteen a.m. saw Sam and Dean barging through Loki and Castiel’s bedroom door, thick scowls in place and voices impatient as they startled the slumbering monsters into wakefulness.

“Get up,” ordered Sam. “There’s been an accident.”

Loki and Castiel frowned irritably as they forced their eyes open, Castiel’s wings automatically curling around Loki, protecting him from the Winchesters.

“Don’t need to tell us about your incontinence,” huffed Loki as he rolled over and snuggled into Castiel’s side, fully intent on drifting back into dreamland.

Dean narrowed his eyes and yanked on the trickster’s shoulder, making Castiel’s wings flare as the angel tugged Loki into his chest protectively.

“What kind of accident?” Growled Castiel, barely restraining himself from lunging at Dean and screaming at him to never touch Loki again.

“The kind that requires search and rescue,” snapped Dean. “With added monster healing powers.”

Castiel frowned in confusion but Loki snorted and turned away from Dean.

“Then why do you need us?”

“Because last I checked, you two were monsters and you can heal,” bit out Dean, restless and itching to get to the scene of the accident. “Now, get up and let’s go.”

“Thought we weren’t allowed out of the house?” Grumbled Loki and this time it was Sam who answered, patience worn thin.

“We’re making an exception. Get moving.”

“Can’t heal,” said Loki disinterestedly, lying back against the pillows. “Have a nice day.”

“Bull,” said Dean throwing the covers off both monsters. “Get your ass into gear. This is a life or death situation.”

Loki glared at Dean and pointedly pulled the covers back over himself. “I. Can’t. Heal,” he enunciated slowly. “Find another slave to fix your mess.”

“You’re both just gonna sit there and let children die?” Snarled Dean. “There are human and monster lives at stake here, so get your fat asses out of bed and help them!”

Castiel raised his eyebrows at Dean’s genuinely distressed tone and he slipped out of bed, dressing himself with a mere blink. He stood by Sam’s side obediently and watched the younger hunter relax slightly in obvious relief.

Loki held Dean’s gaze. “I can’t heal,” he repeated coolly, defiantly.

The older hunter grit his teeth in frustration and fished the activator out from his pocket. He held it out for Loki to see.

“Move,” he growled lowly and Loki glared at Dean with a deep sense of hatred before slowly climbing to his feet.

“I can’t heal,” he protested once more, but Dean ignored him and marched him out of the room, Castiel silently dressing the trickster with a thought. 

Dean knew Loki was lying; he’d read up about tricksters a few nights ago just to get a better idea of what he was housing. They were adept at all sorts of magic, with mischief and illusions being their forte. However, he’d also read that tricksters had a high capacity for healing themselves and others and he wasn’t about to be tricked into believing Loki didn’t fall into that category.

Sam and Dean shoved their monsters into the back seat of the Impala, wasting no time in getting on the road despite Loki’s sour face and crossed arms.

After ten minutes of silence and Dean making at least six traffic violations, Castiel piped up softly.

“What is the accident?”

“Terrorist attack on Union Station,” replied Sam quietly. “A bomb derailed the train and another bomb blew the station hall. Fifteen dead so far. Haven’t identified the attacker yet, but we’re thinking human.”

Nothing more was said as Castiel leaned back in his seat and Loki continued to glare at the back of Dean’s head.

They arrived at the scene of the disaster not too long after and what they saw made their stomachs drop.

The front of the station had collapsed, debris strewn over the lawn and car park and some smaller pieces slowly sinking into the elegant fountain outside. Some cars had suffered damage due to the falling stone and brick and one bus had been entirely crushed beneath a broken pillar. Tickets and plastic bags fluttered in the air, fighting against the breeze and the sounds of people crying and groaning in pain echoed through the ruins of the destroyed station. Humans and monsters alike were scattered around and within the remains of the station, some calling out for help as they tried to roll the rubble away from their bodies. Some were already unconscious, painted with bruises and gashes or in a few cases, impaled with various types of debris. It was clear more had died since Sam and Dean’s last update as even from a distance, the Winchesters could see at least two humans and one demon crushed or bleeding out too fast to help.

Further down the track, a train had violently derailed, jack-knifing into the oncoming train on a parallel track and sending it sprawling onto its side, digging some of the rails up with it. The front end of the jack-knifed train was billowing black smoke and people coughed and shielded their faces as they dragged themselves out of both trains, bloodied and limping.

There were ambulances and police cars dotted around, lights flashing as they tried their best to load humans and monsters onto stretchers. There were a handful of monsters, presumably belonging to the police and paramedics, who were wandering around healing and helping anyone they were able to. 

Dean parked away from the still crumbling station and both Winchesters sprinted over to help. 

“Save who you can,” was Dean’s parting remark to Castiel and Loki and for once, neither monster protested. Castiel immediately ran to the aid of a dragon, stuck between human and reptilian forms as she scrabbled frantically at the metal pole wedged into her fractured shoulder. One of her wings was clearly broken, lying limply over a teenage human girl she’d been trying to protect.

“Save her!” Screamed the dragon frantically as Castiel made to free her of the pole. She yanked herself out of his grip and grabbed her own battered wing, throwing it off the unconscious girl.

“Save her!” The dragon cried again desperately, shoving Castiel towards her and Castiel dropped to his knees, noting the teen’s shallow breathing and bleeding temple.

Castiel placed two fingers two the girl’s head and healed her rapidly deteriorating brain haemorrhage. After a few moments, the girl’s eyes slid open and the dragon sobbed in relief and pulled her into a one-armed hug. The teen buried her face into the dragon’s neck and hugged back tightly before pulling away to stare at her impaled shoulder in horror.

“Zola,” she breathed out in terror before turning her pleading gaze onto Castiel. Castiel stepped forward silently and removed the pole, wings drooping in apology as Zola hissed in agony, smoke trailing from between her lips. He clamped his hand on the gaping wound and healed it, stepping backwards to allow Zola to inspect her now useable shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he was surprised when the teen tugged him into a brief yet grateful hug before returning to her pet and taking her hand.

“Get to safety,” Castiel ordered softly, amused by how Zola hadn’t even noticed he’d also healed her wing because she was too busy checking her owner over. 

They didn’t look very much like a master and slave, Castiel thought idly as he watched them help each other over the debris. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though because an elderly man cried out for him a few metres to his left, shattered legs trapped beneath what appeared to be most of a toilet. He raced over to help.

Loki was a little more hesitant to join in but only by a few seconds. He glanced around the devastation in mute horror, taking in the amount of blood and pain and death around him before glancing to the derailed trains. There weren’t enough ambulances to help them, leaving only a couple of police officers to rescue the survivors. With a deep breath and a brace for the inevitable, Loki disappeared from beside the Impala and reappeared beside one of the trains.

He grimaced as his collar sent a burst of electricity through him but otherwise ignored it as he ran into the smoking train, flinching at the sobs and whimpers of agony around him.

The smoke was thicker now, beginning to drift down the long carriages of the train, making people drop to the floor in search of fresh oxygen. Somewhere to Loki’s left, a child cried.

“Mom? Mom, help me,” the child begged and Loki turned, heart sinking at the sight of the unconscious human mother and the crying little boy with his arm torn up by fragments of glass from the shattered window. One large shard had sliced cleanly through his palm and was visible between the tops of his knuckles.

Loki crawled towards him and the child, no older than six, looked up at him with so much hope and relief, Loki's knees threatened to give out from under him. He’d never had a human look at him like that before.

“Are you going to wake Mommy up?” The little boy asked hopefully and Loki managed a small smile as he nodded.

“First, I’m gonna get that arm better, okay?” He whispered and the boy held his arm out as he nodded trustingly.

Closing his eyes and tensing for what was yet to come, Loki took the boy’s arm gently and poured healing energy into it. 

The collar reacted furiously, sending wave after wave of electricity through his body, each one increasing in strength the longer he used his magic. He bit down on his agony so as not to frighten the boy but had to take a break when the pain made his arms begin to shake.

The boy watched him with a small concerned frown. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Loki,” the trickster replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Are you okay, Mr. Loki?” The little boy asked worriedly and Loki smiled genuinely for the first time in a long while. He took the boy’s arm again.

“I am,” he reassured before flicking his gaze to the large glass shard impaling the boy’s hand.

“This is going to hurt for a few seconds,” he warned and the boy nodded and braced himself. Loki whipped out the shard, grimacing at the boy’s whimper before clamping his hand around the wound and healing it in a matter of seconds. He pulled away and bit back another tormented cry as the collar punished him for such a powerful pulse of magic.

Still, he crawled over to the mother because he couldn’t leave her, especially when the little boy was gazing at him with so much awe and wonder.

He placed two fingers to the woman’s head and, steeling himself for another painful shock, roused the woman from her unconsciousness. 

Her eyes flew open just in time to see his pained flinch and she frowned in confusion for a moment, a little disorientated before her head whipped around frantically in search of her child.

“Mom!” The little boy squealed in delight as he launched himself at her. She hugged him close in relief.

“Mr. Loki healed my hand!” The boy said excitedly. “And he said he was going to wake you up and he did! He did!”

The mother glanced up at Loki and reached out for his hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice full of emotion as she squeezed his palm gratefully.

Loki tilted his head in surprise. No human had ever thanked him before. It was… nice to be spoken to as something other than a monster.

Her gaze softened at his expression. “You’re a good man,” she murmured.

Loki’s chest warmed and he grinned with happiness for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied softly before he pulled her to her feet. “Now, you need to get out of here.” He pushed them gently towards the middle of the train, where he knew there would be another door safer than the one at the front of the train currently clogged with smoke.

“Bye, Mr. Loki,” the boy waved and Loki waved back, eyes sparkling with affection.

“Help!” Called someone to his right.

He swivelled his head and watched as a human male tugged urgently at a demon’s sparking collar. The demon’s white, leathery wings were embedded with glass shards and his whole body was rigid and tense with agony as his collar malfunctioned due to a thin fragment of metal being wedged into it. The collar probably thought the wearer was trying to break it and was punishing him for it. Unfortunately, due to the interfering metal, it couldn’t switch itself off.

“It won’t stop!” The man shouted desperately, attempting to prise the collar open.

The demon’s eyes were black with pure pain and Loki knew he wasn’t only being shocked when his skin began to sizzle. The malfunctioning collar had administered a holy water injection and by the looks of it, it couldn’t stop.

“Help!” Pleaded the human.

Loki watched helplessly. He couldn’t interfere with the collar because all collars were immune to magic. The only way to remove them was with a deactivator.

“It’s half off!” Begged the human, hands bleeding from the collar mistaking him as its wearer. He ignored the stream of electricity though in favour of trying to force the collar open.

Loki looked around frantically. He couldn’t sit around and watch someone die, not even a demon and if the collar really was only half-connected, there may be a chance of removing it.

Beside the demon lay a clearly dead human male and Loki grimaced and ran to him, rummaging in his pockets for anything useful.

“I don’t even know him,” he heard the other human babble. “I don’t even know his name and he saved my life. Shielded me with his wings.” He cursed as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I should’ve said something when that guy was threatening him. Should’ve said something when he kept stamping on his tail and waving his activator at him.”

Loki paused and glanced at the dead man before him. This must be the demon’s owner.

The human cursed again and pulled harder at the collar, uncaring of the burns he was suffering. “Demon didn’t even do anything wrong,” he continued hysterically. “Guy just wanted to hurt him for fun. We all heard it. All heard what he was saying.”

Loki stared at the dead human in disgust before he finally grasped something he could use. He pulled out a swiss knife from the human’s jacket pocket and sprung to his feet, shoving the whimpering human out of the way as he found the miniature pliers. He clamped the pliers around the bared interlocking fingers of the collar and squeezed as hard as he could, ignoring his own protesting collar.

The half-locked collar suddenly snapped, crashing into the demon’s lap, now deactivated.

The human hurled it through the shattered window.

The demon sagged, breathing heavy and strained as his skin sizzled and steamed from the holy water. Loki was impressed the demon hadn’t passed out but he supposed the constant electric shock would have prevented him from doing so. Like a continuous defibrillation loop.

Loki placed two fingers to the demon’s temple and evaporated the holy water, healing his neck along with it.

Then he staggered backwards as his collar automatically upped its voltage settings. Apparently, he’d used enough of his powers in a short space of time to warrant a harsher punishment.

The demon’s eyes widened and he reached out for Loki to steady him.

“What sort of healer is punished for healing?” He whispered, horrified and Loki shook his head.

“Go,” he said, jerking a thumb towards the door.

The human carefully supported the demon and once they’d sent Loki an appreciative glance, they hurried out of the train.

Flames burst high into the air at the front of the train and Loki had no doubts they would soon carry into the carriages.

Rubbing at his sore neck, Loki continued down the train in search of other passengers.

 

* * *

 

Dean helped a woman with a broken leg to exit the train. He’d noticed everyone had been so busy helping the people at the station, they’d forgotten about the derailed trains. 

His mouth drew downwards in worry as he watched flames work their way down the train opposite the one he was crawling through. Most people were off this train now, with only a few at the back left. There had only been one dead so far; an elderly woman who had been sitting right where the other train had impacted the first carriage.

Dean moved onto the last carriage and was happy to note everyone was alive and alert even if they were nursing a few gashes and bruises. He ushered them to safety and once he was certain the train was clear, he moved onto the train in flames.

This train had suffered a lot more damage and Dean could see that although the first few carriages had been emptied of survivors, a few bodies lined the floor, with seats being spattered with blood and most windows broken. Some ceiling panels dangled limply and a few rows of seats had been completely blown by the bomb. There were more bloodied bodies in that carriage and Dean quickly moved on as the fire claimed the first row of seats.

He made his way to the back of the train, where he could see people crawling off, some crying or dragging loved ones to safety.

He jogged over and leapt into the smoky carriage to see who needed help, only for his eyes to widen at the sight of Loki trying hopelessly to save a woman who had been impaled by a ceiling tile. Her entire abdomen had been sliced open by the tile and her gaze was clouded with agony, unfocused as she stared upwards. Loki’s hands were covered in blood as he placed them over the wound and poured as much healing energy as possible into her dying body.

Beside him, a little girl, maybe eight years old, clutched his arm. Tears streamed down her face as she cried a mantra of _“Save her, save her, save her,”_ to Loki and the trickster’s own gaze was glassy with exhaustion and a mixture of emotions as he did all he could to heal the woman.

Dean felt his throat go dry, nausea bubbling within his gut as Loki’s collar buzzed furiously, wave after wave of electricity shooting down his body as it tried to deter him from using his powers. Dean could faintly smell burning flesh.

His memory cast back to that morning when Loki had told him he couldn’t heal and Dean was filled with shame and guilt. The trickster hadn’t meant he wasn’t capable of healing; he’d meant his collar wouldn’t allow him to.

A defeated sob escaped Loki’s lips as the woman took her final breath and the child screamed out in anguish, slumping over her mother’s body. She began coughing as the smoke reached her lungs and Loki quickly scooped her up, ignoring her screams of protests and the pounding of her fists against his shoulder as he carried her outside.

The second he put her down, she tried to sprint back inside, so he picked her up again and suddenly vanished, placing her in the car park next to a police officer before reappearing in the carriage and falling to his knees. Agony flourished through his body. The collar had raised itself three voltage settings since he’d begun searching for survivors within the train and now, with layers upon layers of burns and an even stronger shock voltage, the pain was nearly unbearable.

He didn’t stop his cry this time as he was punished and once it was over, he crawled towards an unconscious werewolf trapped beneath some fallen luggage.

Dean watched in horror as Loki mindlessly pulled luggage from the limp werewolf. The trickster was determined to help despite suffering through so much agony. He wasn’t the arrogant, irritating, human-loathing monster Dean had pegged him as and it was Dean’s fault he was being punished for doing good.

No wonder he was so bitter.

Dean fumbled in his pocket for his activator, whilst simultaneously pulling out his deactivator. He searched for Loki’s serial number on the activator and quickly inputted it into the deactivator just before Loki placed two fingers against the werewolf’s head.

There was a soft beep and a click and Loki suddenly froze, eyes wide as he brushed careful fingers over his collar.

He whipped around, eyes landing on Dean’s apologetic expression.

For a moment, Dean wasn’t sure if Loki would snap his fingers and disappear forever now he had no restraints, but to his delight, the trickster slowly returned to the werewolf and continued his work, body sagging in relief when there was no punishment for rousing the woman.

Guilt eating away at his chest, Dean turned to a teenage siren with her arm trapped between some broken chairs.

 

* * *

 

That night, Loki fingered his reactivated collar with a soft sigh. He stared through the kitchen window into the starry night sky and wondered why he hadn’t fled whilst he’d had the chance.

There was only one reason, really. _Castiel._

He would never leave the angel again, no matter how many times he was set free.

As soon as everyone had been rescued, Dean had subtly crept behind Loki and reactivated his collar. The trickster had felt betrayed, but he couldn’t say he was all that surprised.

The ride home had been silent. There was too much blood, too many deaths and injuries for anyone to even contemplate talking. They’d stayed at the scene until the late evening, still rescuing people, still saving monsters and now they were all emotionally and physically drained. 

Sam, Loki and Castiel had all quickly retired to bed, Dean lingering downstairs stating he had something to sort out first.

Now it was nearing one a.m. and Loki hadn’t been able to sleep. The screams of the little girl as she begged for him to save her dead mother haunted his nightmares and he’d needed to come downstairs for a glass of cooling water. He didn’t want to go to sleep.

He frowned at the quiet tapping noises from the living room and slowly crept towards the door, popping his head around it to see what the source was.

He lifted an eyebrow at the sight of a tired Dean typing something out on the computer.

He stalked forwards silently, curiosity getting the better of him and Dean didn’t reprimand him as he approached. He peered warily over Dean’s shoulder and both eyebrows rocketed upwards as he read the words **_‘Ability Request Form: Trickster’_** at the heading of the document.

A small smile tugged at Loki’s lips and through the reflection of the computer screen, he watched Dean offer a small smile in return.

He gently squeezed the hunter’s shoulder and made his way upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turning point?


	6. Chapter 6

Dean silently handed over the letter he’d received that morning. Loki took it with an uncertain glance at the hunter and unfolded it, Castiel peering over his shoulder curiously.

Dean watched as the trickster scanned through the letter, eyes lighting up as he neared the end and he beamed excitedly at Castiel, the angel’s wings wiggling in delight.

The older Winchester felt a smile tug at his own lips as Loki poised his hand in mid-air, bracing himself in case the letter was incorrect, and finally clicking his fingers. A lollipop appeared in his other hand and he gazed at it in wonder for a moment, marvelling at the lack of pain before turning a grateful smile to Dean.

Dean huffed in amusement and wandered into the kitchen, unsure why he still felt guilty.

Sam observed the small exchange wordlessly, hiding his gaze behind his book. Dean had told him all about the incident on the burning train and in turn, he’d told Dean about how Castiel had worked non-stop to save as many humans and monsters as he could. Sam had watched Castiel bring a man back from the brink of death. Even when the paramedics shoved at him and told him it was futile, demanding he let them record the time of death, Castiel had stayed by the man’s side and practically breathed life back into him.

Sam had watched Castiel save a heavily pregnant lady’s unborn child. Her stomach had been crushed by debris and she had been sobbing about the death of the child inside her, but Castiel had placed a gentle hand on her stomach and told her there was a heartbeat. He proceeded to heal both the lady and her child and Sam could honestly say he’d never seen anyone look so grateful. 

He’d even watched Castiel save an oblivious policeman from crumbling rubble, his wings wrapping around the officer as the station collapsed further, threatening everything in its path.

Sam had seen Castiel work miracles and it had changed his whole view on the angel. With Dean’s explanation, he’d also changed his opinion of the trickster.

Now, as he watched Castiel smile warmly at Loki, the trickster testing out his pain-free powers with child-like glee, Sam’s guilt began to eat away at him. It wriggled a squirmed inside him, making his chest tight and throat dry and after a few moments, he couldn’t look at Castiel or Loki for fear of making the feelings inside him grow.

Suddenly, there was a sharp buzz and Loki yelped like a wounded puppy. Sam’s gaze snapped to the trickster only to find him on the opposite side of the room, staring wide-eyed at the couch he’d just been perched on.

Dean ran into the room, looking uncharacteristically panicked and Loki gazed at him, confused as he rubbed his neck.

Dean stared between the trickster and the couch before finally working out what had happened. He glanced at Loki.

“I didn’t tick the box for teleporting,” he said. The _‘so you don’t run away’_ went without saying; Sam had prohibited Castiel from flying for exactly the same reasons, something both angel and trickster had found out on their second evening at the Winchesters’ residence.

Loki sagged slightly but nodded in understanding. He meandered to the couch and continued trying out his other powers as though nothing had happened.

A strange sort of grimace flickered over Dean’s face before he disappeared into the kitchen once more.

Sam watched both monsters huddle together like young children as they discussed Loki’s powers and he bit his lip, the queasy feeling in his stomach intensifying. Before he knew what he was saying, his lips were moving, words pouring from them.

“Dean’s at work tomorrow but I’ve got a day off. I was wondering if you guys wanted to go out for lunch somewhere? Or if you wanted to go to the park? You know, get out of the house for a bit?”

Loki and Castiel stared at Sam, bewildered. They shared a brief glance before Loki frowned distrustingly.

“I thought we weren’t allowed out of the house?” He said slowly.

“You’re not animals,” Sam replied, then grimaced at the awkward silence that followed. “Well, maybe we need to scrap that rule,” he offered instead, not quite meeting their gazes. “I don’t see any harm in you leaving the house when one of us is accompanying you.”

Both monsters shared another wary glance.

“Will we require… chains?” Asked Castiel carefully. Lots of humans walked their monsters on leads or chains to keep better control of them. Castiel wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with the idea of being paraded around like a dog.

Sam quickly shook his head, that same feeling of shame worming its way around his stomach.

“Just don’t… run off,” he murmured softly, watching as Castiel and Loki raised surprised eyebrows at one another.

“Alright,” agreed Castiel, but his wings were bouncing in excitement and Loki’s eyes sparkled in anticipation of finally being let out of the house for something other than a life-or-death situation. There wasn’t a trace of the angry, bitter husks they’d been for the past few weeks. It was as though they’d found a tiny speck of hope and were clinging to it like a lifeline, afraid it would disappear at any moment, but determined to make the most of it.

Sam wasn’t sure whether to smile at their reactions or lower his gaze.

 

* * *

 

Loki’s gaze roamed around the little café, drinking in every sight and sound as though he’d never experience it again. Castiel glanced around calmly but his fluttering wings betrayed his delight.

The café was small with a rustic feel to it. It specialised in Italian foods and was one of Sam’s favourite places to visit and complete paperwork in. Candles lined the walls; not fake electric ones, real ones with slow-burning wicks and the kind of wax that oozed downwards in smooth drops like in old films. Red and white chequered cloths decorated each table, the floor tiled and walls composed of varnished oak. The place smelled vaguely of freshly-baked bread and olive oil.

Loki munched absently on a breadstick as his gaze continued to flick around the room and Sam couldn’t help but smile at the innocence in his expression. It was nothing like the personality he’d come to associate with the sharp-tongued trickster and he wondered what kind of person Loki really was.

“Thank you, Master,” Castiel suddenly said. “For this kind opportunity.”

Once again, the guilt bubbled away in his stomach and Sam dropped his gaze to his napkin. 

“You don’t have to thank me for this, Castiel,” Sam said quietly. “You both deserve this much for all your help on Wednesday. In fact, you deserve more.”

Castiel and Loki remained quiet. The picture of obedience.

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “And you don’t have to keep calling me ‘Master’.” He glanced at Loki. “Nor do you have to call me ‘Sir’.” He stared at his napkin and murmured quietly, “You’re not slaves.”

Loki opened his mouth, presumably to retort with some quip about how it felt like they were, but Castiel placed a hand on his leg, shutting him up immediately.

After a few moments, a tanned man with slicked back hair and an authentic Italian accent glided over to take their orders. Sam asked for some sort of salad that had Loki turning his nose up in distaste and Castiel ordered spaghetti whilst Loki ordered the biggest, messiest calzone he could find.

“So… what kind of things did you guys do in your free time before you came to us?” Asked Sam cautiously, unsure how to even begin talking to a couple of monsters he hadn’t exactly been kind to in the past.

Castiel delicately clasped his hands together on the table. 

“I read a lot,” he offered. “The residents of the care home also enjoyed when I played piano. Some evenings when I was alone or had a day off, I used to sketch.”

Sam raised an interested eyebrow. “Were you good?”

Castiel tilted his head contemplatively. “I’m not sure. I suppose it depends on your perception of art. I sketched what I saw or things I’ve seen in my past. I was never very adept at fantasy.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “And piano? Did you teach yourself or just… magic up the ability?”

Castiel smiled in amusement and shook his head. “Our magic has limitations. Mostly, it uses what we already know. We can’t ‘magic up’ a skill if we’ve never learned how to do it. We have to learn skills physically, just as you do. Then we have to learn how to control our magic to enhance that skill.”

Sam blinked in surprise. In all his time as a hunter, he’d never thought to ask how magic worked. He’d always assumed monsters could snap their fingers and things would just… happen. He’d never considered the idea of them having to learn about the world in order to fully utilise their powers and then having to learn about their own magic to explore its potential. He’d thought magic was instinctive. 

He frowned. If that was the case, then shouldn’t monsters be educated like human children? Shouldn’t they be allowed to learn and explore their abilities, just like humans did? What if humans were expecting too much out of their monsters? What if they were asking for things they weren’t capable of or didn’t know how to do because they’d never been given the opportunity?

“What about healing?” Asked Sam curiously. “If you guys have to learn skills physically before utilising your magic, how come so many monsters can heal?”

“Some magic is innate,” explained Castiel patiently. “Healing, for instance, is ingrained into our brains from birth. I suppose it is a protection mechanism. The difficulty is training ourselves to heal someone else. It can go wrong sometimes and we require practice to perfect the skill and that’s why in angels, for example, some are better healers than others. The more we learn about the body and the more cases we face, the more efficient we become. We can be more precise; heal more complex damage.”

Sam thought about the pregnant lady and the unborn child Castiel had healed.

“Wait, so you’re… pretty adept at healing then,” Sam said, startled. “Like, you can do really complex stuff.”

Castiel smiled, small and secretive. “As I said, I’ve read a lot over the years. I also had the benefit of working in an elderly care home to practice my skills.”

Sam blinked. Castiel was… smart. Really smart. And it wasn’t just theoretical knowledge; he could actually apply it to help people.

He stared at the angel in a new light and wondered what else he was ignorant to pertaining to the world of monsters.

“What about you?” He asked, flicking his gaze to Loki. “What did you do in your free time?”

Loki snorted inelegantly. “Didn’t get free time.”

Sam frowned. “Surely you must have had some down time?”

Loki sent him a bitter smile. “Well, when I wasn’t being pounded into by customers, I was being beaten up by my owner for being a _‘filthy monster’_ or shocked by my collar for snapping myself up a meal. After all that, I was pretty sore and exhausted and wanted to sleep.”

Sam grimaced, dropping his gaze. Loki had kept the same collar settings for what appeared to be the majority (if not all) of his life. Between that and prejudiced owners, he’d probably spent more time in agony than he had being pain-free.

Loki watched shame and guilt play across Sam’s features and his gaze softened slightly as he looked to the table.

“I used to bake,” he offered softly after a few moments and Sam’s head snapped up. “When my owner wasn’t around. I baked, cooked, fried… Anything I could do in the kitchen, I wanted to try it. It was… soothing, comforting.” Loki shrugged forcedly. “Cooking distracted me from… everything else in my life,” he trailed off quietly.

Sam’s chest hurt. No one deserved the pain Loki had faced, monster or otherwise.

“And before you ask, I was really good at it too,” Loki suddenly grinned, winking at the hunter. “Magic may be easier but there’s a certain taste to a home-cooked meal that can’t be synthesised from thin air.”

Sam managed a small smile. “Maybe we should scrap that rule on asking us for food, then,” he said.

Loki’s grin fell, replaced by pure hope and Sam decided then and there that Castiel and Loki shouldn’t have any kitchen restrictions, nor should they have to snap their own food up. That was their home now; how could he and Dean have been so cruel as to not even buy them food?

“How about we go grocery shopping later?” Sam suggested airily. “You can pick out some things you like?”

He pretended not to notice the way Loki’s face had just lit up with joy as Castiel’s wings fluttered happily, the two sharing eager smiles.

The tension that had been festering between them for weeks suddenly eased a little and Sam found himself relaxing slightly as their meals came.

Loki wasted no time in digging into to his calzone, looking like a man who hadn’t seen food in seven months as sauce smeared around his mouth. Castiel, on the other hand, had far more manners as he swirled his pasta on his fork and took small, thoughtful bites, chewing slowly as if savouring the food.

Sam’s gaze flicked between the pair and as Loki made a show of licking tomato sauce and cheese off his knife, Castiel eying him in blatant disgust, Sam found himself laughing. 

Castiel and Loki glanced up at him in confusion and Sam laughed harder.

“Oh man, you eat exactly like Dean,” he grinned at Loki before glancing at Castiel. “And you stare at him the exact same way I do when he’s being a pig.”

He watched sauce drip down Loki’s chin onto the table cloth, Castiel pulling a face at the trickster’s mess.

Sam laughed again, warm and delighted and eventually, Castiel and Loki smiled too, seemingly finding his laughter amusing.

Sam quietened down when the waiter shot him a glare and he ducked his head, trying to bite back his grin as Loki cleaned his face with a napkin.

There was a scream.

Sam was on his feet and sprinting into the kitchen before anyone had time to stop him. Loki and Castiel were on his tail in an instant and all three skidded to a halt at the sight of one of the female chefs waving a meat cleaver at a terrified vampire. Sprawled over the floor lay a fitting male sous chef. 

“You filthy, murdering beast!” Screeched the chef, a waitress standing behind her, thick scowl set on the vampire. 

The vampire shook her head frantically. “I didn’t do anything!” She begged. “I found him like that!”

“You’re his pet!” The chef screamed, still brandishing the meat cleaver. “He turned his back on you and you drove your fangs into his neck! I knew I never should have let him bring you into my kitchen!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Cried the vampire desperately. “I’d never hurt anyone!”

Sam grabbed a roll of tape from a nearby shelf and slid behind the vampire before she had a chance to react. He yanked her wrists behind her and began taping them up as her tears flowed faster.

“You have the right to remain silent,” he began but Loki, who was on the floor beside the fitting sous chef, along with Castiel, snapped his gaze to Sam with a scowl.

“Wait a minute, she didn't do this,” he said as Castiel placed two fingers on the man’s head, immediately ceasing his seizures.

Sam frowned. “She's the only monster in the room.” He gestured to the sous chef’s neck, where two puncture wounds were visible. “And that looks like a vampire bite.”

The chef waved her cleaver at Loki. “Get away from him, beast. This doesn’t concern you.”

Loki ignored her and glared at Sam, climbing to his feet.

“This man was fitting. Vampire bites don’t cause seizures. Not to mention the guy is sweating puddles here and lost all control of his senses until Cas got to him. Vampire bites don’t cause loss of senses. In fact, when they turn a human, they cause increased sound, smell and visual perception. No, this man shows all the signs of being poisoned.”

Castiel finished healing the man and his rapid, shallow breathing eased, muscles relaxing. It would take him a while to recover fully.

Castiel stood beside the trickster and nodded. “There was venom in his blood stream.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at Sam. “What do we know has the bite of a vampire and releases snake-like venom into its victim?” He asked drily.

Sam stared at the trickster. “Vetala,” he said slowly and Loki nodded tightly before gesturing to the sobbing vampire. “You don’t even have the correct species, let alone the murderer.”

Sam frowned at the vampire’s bound wrists.

“In case you haven’t noticed… there are no vetalas here. The vampire has to have done it. Maybe she poisoned him later.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at Sam as if he was being particularly dense and Castiel pointed silently behind him.

Sam turned to find the back door of the kitchen swinging wide open.

He stared at it for a few moments before slowly turning back to the crying vampire. 

“Why are you listening to them?” Seethed the chef. “They’re just a couple of abominations like that worthless girl; of course they’ll stick up for her! Get rid of that vampire and get those freaks out of my kitchen!”

Sam glared at the chef. “Who last used the back door?”

“I did,” huffed the chef.

“Then you’re responsible for allowing your sous chef to be poisoned,” he snapped.

The chef’s eyes widened and she clenched her fists as her fiery glare burned holes into his head.

“Who are you, anyway?” She hissed. “What right do you and your disgusting little slaves have to barge in here and start making accusations?”

Sam fished the police badge out of his jacket. She quickly clamped her mouth shut.

“They’re not slaves,” he said icily, suddenly feeling the need to defend Castiel and Loki against this deplorable woman. “One of them just saved your sous chef’s life and the other just solved an attempted murder case. You should show them some respect.”

Loki and Castiel blinked at Sam in surprise.

Sam freed the vampire of her bindings and turned her around, squeezing her shoulder gently.

“You okay?” He asked apologetically and she sniffled and nodded, staring up at him with big brown eyes. He glared at the furious chef.

“Stay away from her,” he growled before pointing at the sous chef, who was now beginning to sit up. “When he’s able to walk, send him home and make sure he takes…” He paused and glanced down at the vampire, who blinked up at him and chirped _“Sandra”_.

“And make sure he takes Sandra with him,” Sam huffed before squeezing the vampire’s shoulder again and flicking his gaze to Castiel and Loki.

“Come on,” he said gesturing towards the back door and they followed him wordlessly, heads high as they turned their backs on the chef.

Once outside, they stared at Sam, impressed. Oblivious, Sam looked around the small alleyway with a hard scowl.

“Now we have no idea where the actual criminal is,” he grumbled unhappily.

“At least you didn’t convict an innocent girl,” pointed out Loki and Sam flinched and wondered how many times he’d done exactly that. Monsters were put to death if they were thought to have killed a human.

“And you got there in time to save the sous chef,” said Castiel.

Sam whirled around with a frown. “No, _you_ saved the sous chef.”

Castiel shrugged. “I’m your monster. You own me. That means the credit is yours.”

Sam scowled and suddenly felt uneasy.

“You’re not a slave, Castiel. You saved someone’s life. You should be thanked for it.”

Castiel tilted his head. “I may not be your slave,” he said slowly, as if he didn’t quite believe the words he was saying, “but you do own me. I am considered your monster. Therefore, the credit is yours.”

Sam swallowed thickly, skin beginning to itch with discomfort.

“You rescued that man. Ambulances would never have got to him in time. You deserve some appreciation for that.”

Castiel frowned at Sam in confusion for a moment before finally shaking his head.

“There are very few who see it that way,” he settled on and Sam’s mouth drew into a thin line.

Instead of arguing, Sam wandered down the alley, heading for the street. Castiel and Loki trotted after him wondering if their meals had grown cold.

Suddenly, Sam froze and both Loki and Castiel heard a faint hissing noise before Sam yanked them forwards and threw them behind him.

Right where they had been standing, an uncollared vetala now glowered at them, her jaw gaping, showing off her fangs and her snake eyes a bright blue, ready for feeding.

She hissed at Sam angrily, lunging forwards and Sam quickly shoved the angel and trickster backwards as he looked around desperately for a weapon.

The vetala eyed Castiel with interest, sizing up his huge wings and she sprung forwards, snatching at one which had fanned wide in shock. Just as she was about to sink her fangs into the feathery appendage, Sam swung his fist into her jaw, sending her staggering to one side. She hissed in fury, the sound taking on a rattlesnake-like quality and she sped towards Sam quicker than any human could.

Sam threw an arm out to push Castiel out of the way but was surprised when a small silver sword landed in his hand instead, followed by a heavy _thump_ that he didn’t have time to figure out.

Sam thrust the sword into the vetala’s heart and twisted, watching her scream as she crumbled into dust. Panting, he flicked his gaze to the sword and marvelled at its flawless composition before turning to Castiel to ask where he’d found it.

Only to find Castiel lying unmoving on the floor, Loki looking panicked as he cradled the angel’s face between both hands and poured as much healing energy into him as possible.

Sam stared wide-eyed at the limp angel before dropping to his knees and checking Castiel’s pulse. Then he inspected the angel’s wing to see if the vetala had bitten him.

“The collar did this,” Loki murmured, focused on healing the angel. “Holy oil injection.”

Sam blinked, stunned. “What? Why? He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“He summoned his sword,” muttered Loki bitterly. “Collar activated its failsafe.”

Sam gaped at Loki. “He was protecting me!”

“Doesn’t matter!” Snapped Loki. “All collars are designed to prevent monsters from summoning weapons. Demons can’t summon blades, angels can’t summon swords, reapers can’t summon scythes, cherubs can’t summon crossbows, etcetera, etcetera!” He pulled away from Castiel once he remembered his powers had no effect on holy oil. He cursed softly. “I can’t help him. We’re going to have to hope he wakes up on his own.”

Sam stared at the distressed Loki before dropping his gaze to the unconscious angel. “He knew giving me his sword would do this to him, yet he did it anyway. Why?”

Loki frowned at Sam. “…You saved our lives. Protected us from being that thing’s lunch. Even socked it in the jaw for Cas. He knew you had nothing else to defend yourself with so he summoned his sword, despite the pain he knew it would bring.”

Sam’s gaze flicked to Castiel and his chest began to ache. His lips pulled downwards and he gently picked up the angel, tucking his wings into a more comfortable position as he made his way towards the black ’05 Dodge Charger Dean loathed with a passion. His brother had never been a fan of modern cars.

Sam loaded Castiel into the backseat, Loki observing him curiously as Sam strapped the angel in.

“Stay with him for a sec,” ordered Sam as he ran into the café and paid for their unfinished meal, jogging back out with a concerned expression.

“We’re going to get him home and you’re going to tell me how I can help him,” Sam stated, hopping into the driver’s seat. He handed Loki the sword and the trickster glanced at him, surprised.

“He’ll want it back when he wakes up,” said Sam, not realising he’d just handed Loki a very dangerous weapon that the trickster could utilise whilst he was distracted driving, unable to fight back.

Loki glanced at the weapon, flicked his gaze up to Sam and after a few moments’ thought, carefully placed it in Castiel’s trenchcoat.

“There’s not much we can do,” admitted Loki. “Just… keep him comfortable. He’ll probably be in a lot of pain when he wakes up.”

Sam nodded grimly and broke a couple of speed limits.

 

* * *

 

Castiel’s eyes fluttered open and he grimaced at his splitting headache and the way his body felt as if it had been set on fire from the inside out.

He was dismayed to find he couldn’t heal himself and quickly remembered that holy oil was to blame. He wondered why the pavement was so soft, then realised he’d been moved to a bed and there was a body snuggled beside his.

He glanced to his right and smiled at the sight of the trickster cuddling up to him, fast asleep and holding him tight, face creased with worry. 

He noticed it was dark outside and he rolled over to glance at the clock. 12:46 a.m.

His eyebrows rocketed upwards. He’d been out cold for nearly twelve hours.

He stretched the kinks out of his back before carefully extracting himself from Loki’s grip and flexing his wings. His throat was dry and he was in desperate need of a bathroom.

Once he’d relieved himself, he plodded downstairs, heading for the kitchen before pausing when he heard Sam and Dean chatting quietly inside. He pressed himself against the wall and placed his ear against it, knowing he shouldn’t, but not caring in the slightest.

“I know, but they saved a man’s life and they stopped me from convicting the wrong monster. I didn’t even have the right species,” came Sam’s insistent voice. “I was ready to sentence this poor, sobbing vampire girl to death and she hadn’t even touched the guy!” He paused. “Dean, what if we’ve been going about this hunting thing the wrong way?” He murmured, sounding disturbed. 

Dean snorted. “Don’t be stupid, Sam. The monsters commit the crime and we convict them. That’s how this works.”

“But what if we’ve been convicting the wrong monsters?” Hissed Sam. “What if we’ve been punishing the innocent ones?”

Dean snorted again and Castiel could hear Sam growing irritated with his easy dismissal. 

“Every time we have a case where a human dies at home and there’s no obvious killer, we automatically blame the monster that lives there. We don’t even check for fingerprints! We just blame what’s convenient. Well, what if we’re wrong? What if we’ve been killing the good ones?” His voice lowered in shame. “Like I almost did today.”

There was a significant pause this time before Dean spoke.

“These are _monsters_ we’re talking about,” he said slowly. “If a human dies at home and there’s only a monster who lives there with them, it’s most likely because the monster did it. Don’t forget the whole reason for the collars, Sam. They’re in place to protect us because monsters prey on humans. They like to kill us; it’s what they do. Don’t mistake our jobs for _CSI: Kansas_.”

“Sandra was the only monster in that kitchen and she didn’t do it,” bit out Sam quietly. “Castiel was willing to go through agony to save me today. Loki healed all those people despite knowing it would melt his skin! What if we’ve been wrong about monsters? What if we’ve slaughtered innocent lives?” 

There was a moment of silence before Sam spoke again.

“We’ve been so set on labelling them all as _‘evil’_ and _‘dangerous’_ , we’ve forgotten what this job is about. We’re police officers. We’re supposed to protect the innocent and deliver justice to criminals. What if we’ve replaced the word ‘innocent’ with ‘humans’ and ‘criminals’ with ‘monsters’? Why do we always assume the monsters are at fault?”

Silence. 

“What if one day, it’s Castiel and Loki who are in Sandra’s place and there’s no one there to defend them?” Continued Sam quietly. “After all the good they’ve done, what if another hunter comes along and accuses them of something they didn’t do and nobody listens when they say they didn’t do it? What if they’re the ones put to death because nobody bothered to spend two minutes thinking things through?”

Another pause before:

“…Well, what do you suggest?” Dean asked, uneasily. “How are we supposed to get better at the jobs we’ve been doing for years and thought we knew well?”

“…We should take them with us on the next case,” said Sam after a moment. “They could teach us to look at things differently.”

Castiel could practically hear Dean frowning. “We can’t do that. We’re supposed to be professionals. How will we look with two monsters showing us how to work the job?”

“We know how to catch monsters and how to protect civilians. What we don’t seem to know is _which_ monsters to catch. Castiel and Loki could teach us what clues to look for and the differences between monster attacks,” reasoned Sam.

“It’s not right,” complained Dean. “We shouldn’t be looking to a couple of monsters for help on how to catch monsters.”

“Well, do you want to keep murdering innocent lives?” Snapped Sam and Dean fell silent at that.

“We’re supposed to protect and serve,” murmured Sam. “That goes for monsters as well as humans.”

“…What they did to Mom and Dad,” Dean began, voice shaky and Castiel pressed his ear flat against the wall, straining to hear more.

To his disappointment, Sam cut his brother off. “I know. But we can’t brand them all as cruel. It’s not fair.”

“Okay,” murmured Dean after a little while. “There are no rules about bringing monsters on hunts so I guess we could try it.” He hesitated. “What if they don’t want to?”

Sam paused. “…Hopefully they will.”

“Right,” sighed Dean, closer to the door than Castiel had expected. His eyes widened as he tried to scramble backwards out of view, but Dean was already walking through the door and turning tiredly towards the stairs.

He stopped when he spotted Castiel.

“You’re awake,” he said, surprised. Then he narrowed his gaze. “Were you… eavesdropping?”

Castiel had the decency to look guilty as Sam popped his head around the door, eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

“You’re awake,” Sam echoed, pleased. “How are you feeling?”

“I have a headache,” confessed Castiel, glancing embarrassedly at a frowning Dean. “I came down to fetch some water.”

Dean’s frown softened a little as Sam suddenly disappeared into the kitchen again.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel murmured quietly. “Sir,” he tagged on as an afterthought. 

Dean scrunched his nose up and shook his head. “No need for that ‘Sir’ and ‘Master’ crap. You can tell Loki the same.” He raised an eyebrow. “Heard you did good today.”

Castiel lowered his gaze.

Dean sighed. “I’m not mad at you for eavesdropping. You shouldn’t have done it, but I can’t be mad when you risked yourself for my brother. So… how much of that did you hear?”

Castiel shuffled his feet like a scolded child, wings drooping. “Most of it.”

“Well, what do you think?” Asked Sam, suddenly reappearing with a glass of water, which he offered to the angel. “Would you be willing to help us out on cases?”

Castiel must have contemplated the question a little too long because Dean crossed his arms.

“We can pay you for your time,” he said. “Although I’m not sure if money will be useful to you since you guys can snap up pretty much anything you want.”

“We don’t want your money,” assured Castiel. “...But we will help you if you pay us a little respect.”

Sam and Dean blinked in surprise, glancing at one another in confusion.

Castiel lifted his chin. “We don’t ask for much but it would be nice to be treated as people instead of mindless animals. You don’t need to yell at us or order us around like cattle. We respond to politeness, just as humans do. We’re not asking you to worship us like royalty, merely to treat us with a little consideration, as you would do any human.” He wondered if they would grow angry and beat him for stepping out of line. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been battered for asking for a little kindness. Staff and residents alike at the care home had punished him for speaking out. He was feeling brave though after the ordeal at the café.

Sam cocked an eyebrow as Dean sized him up and Castiel steeled himself in preparation for a fist impacting his face.

“Deal,” shrugged Dean as Sam nodded in agreement. Castiel stared at them both. That… wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

“You help us, we won’t order you around,” agreed Dean. “Great. I’m going to bed.” He ambled towards the stairs. “Painkillers are in the bathroom, under the sink,” he threw over his shoulder before vanishing.

Castiel blinked and glanced at Sam, who smiled and squeezed his shoulder lightly before trailing after his brother.

Castiel stared at the glass of water in his hand. 

Well… that was unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Churning the chapters out as fast as I can ;)


	7. Chapter 7

“We gonna get a briefing for what we’re about to see?” Drawled Loki as he watched the scenery fly past the car window. It was open a crack, just enough for him to feel the fresh air whizzing over his face and through his hair and he closed his eyes, relishing the sensations and imagining he was flying.

“We’ve had a call from some neighbours that they heard screaming from inside a woman’s apartment. They said they heard struggling and banging before everything fell silent and they happen to know she was alone this afternoon apart from the werewolf that lives with her,” relayed Sam, glancing through his hurriedly scribbled notes.

Loki nodded and returned his attention to the window, gazing at the forest longingly.

“Did we really need to bring them on this case?” Grumbled Dean. “Seems pretty straightforward to me.”

Sam eyed him sternly. “We promised to give this a try.”

Dean sighed and fell silent. Like his brother, he didn’t want to take innocent lives, but it was clear this werewolf was the killer. They didn’t need to scrutinise the crime scene to figure that out.

They arrived at the apartment block a few minutes later. It looked freshly refurbished and seemed peaceful enough, so Dean and Sam double checked their weapons and Sam grabbed the dog snare from the boot. They stalked into the apartment block, Castiel and Loki trotting behind them obediently as they took in their surroundings.

They climbed to the fourth floor and paused when they reached apartment eighteen. Dean pressed his ear to the door, listening for any movement and when he heard soft footsteps, he reeled backwards and gestured for Sam to barge through the door on the count of _one… two… three!_

They kicked open the door and bounced into the room, guns aimed at the startled man crouched beside a discarded jacket in the centre of the room. A metre to his left lay the mutilated corpse of a woman, flesh torn and, in some places, missing. Her mouth was open in an everlasting scream, eyes wide with fear and bite wounds littered her body.

“Stay down!” Yelled Dean as the man made to stand and when he opened his mouth to reply, Dean spotted the four elongated canines that marked him as a werewolf.

The werewolf did as asked, watching them in bewilderment as Sam kept his gun aimed at his head, Dean striding towards him with a pair of cuffs.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say may be used- ”

“Wait, you don’t think I did this?” Squeaked the werewolf with round eyes, obviously only just catching on to what was going on. “She’s my owner!”

Dean hauled him to his feet once he’d snapped the cuffs on him. He was much slimmer and lighter than Dean had expected for a werewolf.

“Yeah, well you don’t seem too broken up about it, buddy,” growled Dean as Castiel and Loki slid over to the body, inspecting it carefully.

“Now hold on a minute,” protested the werewolf, looking a little like a kicked puppy. “I’m trying to find the thing that did this! That’s its jacket over there.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved the werewolf towards the door.

“Come on, guys,” he grunted at Castiel and Loki.

“He’s telling the truth,” Loki suddenly said and Dean whirled on him with a scowl as Sam cocked an interested eyebrow.

“What are you talking about? That poor woman has been torn apart and the killer is standing a mere metre from her body,” huffed Dean and Loki crossed his arms.

“No, her _pet_ is standing a mere metre from her body. Y’know, ‘cos he _lives here_.”

The werewolf nodded, rather laid back for a man who was about to be euthanised for murder.

“Then who do you think killed her?” Snapped Dean, patience wearing thin. He just wanted to get this beast back to the station, ask him why he did it and then send him off to be euthanised.

“Her heart is still intact,” murmured Castiel, a hand over her chest as his grace spread throughout her body. 

“And look at these bite marks,” said Loki, kneeling down to inspect the woman’s arm. “They’re not wolf bites. They’re too small. These were made by something humanoid. Look at the shape.” He held out the arm for Sam to check.

“He’s right, Dean,” Sam agreed. “These aren’t wolf bites.”

Dean blinked and glanced at the curious werewolf he was restraining. The guy seemed a little too dorky to be a monster, never mind a killer.

“What’s your name, kiddo?” Asked Loki and the werewolf smiled lazily.

“Garth.”

“Well, Garth, why were you so interested in that jacket over there?”

The werewolf perked up. “Because it’s a man’s jacket but it’s certainly not mine. I reckon it’s the killer’s. I thought with me being part canine and all, I could use that jacket to track his scent and bring him to the police.” He grinned, looking pleased with his plan.

Dean swallowed thickly and wordlessly began to unfasten the cuffs.

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” Asked Loki, glancing at Dean pointedly and Garth scrunched his nose up in distaste.

“Well, jacket smells like something died in it six months ago so I’m either guessing zombie or ghoul and since we haven’t had any zombie apocalypse alarms yet, I’m going with ghoul. It fits with the bite marks.” He grinned and Dean ducked his head in shame, stepping away from the werewolf as Garth rubbed at his wrists.

“Ghouls can change their form to take on that of one of their victims,” said Castiel, “meaning this killer could be anyone and anywhere.”

“Still smell like a rotting corpse to a wolf though,” shrugged Garth. “Give me a moment to take in that jacket’s scent and I reckon I can find him.” His eyes brightened as if he’d just come up with a brilliant plan. “Hey! Wanna come with? I could use a little back-up.”

Loki bit back a chuckle as Sam and Dean shared a bewildered glance.

“You realise I was about to take you in to be euthanised, right?” Asked Dean carefully, stowing his gun away.

Garth nodded, still smiling goofily. “Yeah, but we’ve sorted that little miscommunication error and now we’re all friends. So, you wanna help out?” He asked excitedly.

Dean stared at the werewolf for a moment before nodding. Garth beamed and plodded over to the jacket, morphing into his wolf form – _where did their clothes go when they did that?_ – and burying his nose into the collar.

Sam glanced at Dean with pointedly raised eyebrows and Dean looked away, feeling suitably ashamed of himself. He caught Loki smirking at him and felt even worse.

Garth suddenly recoiled from the jacket with a sour expression before wiggling his tail and barking excitedly. Then he sped out of the apartment and down the stairs, leaving the remaining four men to balk and race after him.

Garth’s nose pressed to the ground, sniffing furiously as he galloped through the streets and Dean could feel his ears burning every time someone stared at them or had to leap out of their way. They must have looked utterly ridiculous; two cops, a trickster, an angel and a werewolf sprinting through the streets.

Garth barked excitedly again and veered sharply right into the road and Sam gasped as a car came within an inch of mowing him down before Castiel flung a hand out to lock its brakes. The car came to a dead stop, the airbag engaging and the driver looking particularly peeved as he tried to deflate it.

Castiel’s collar buzzed and the angel grimaced.

Sam and Dean winced with him.

They ran after Garth and when he knocked an elderly lady flying, her walking frame skittering three feet to her left, Loki teleported himself to her side before she had a chance to hit the ground and break a hip. He steadied her, ignoring the buzz of his collar, and smiled apologetically at her. She narrowed her eyes at him and hit him with her handbag before carrying on her way.

Loki rubbed his arm with a frown and wondered if she had a couple of bricks in her bag.

A warm hand came to rest on his back and he looked up to find Sam watching him with a concerned expression. He offered the hunter a brief, reassuring smile and was pleasantly surprised when the hunter didn’t run off and leave him, instead guiding him forwards and running by his side.

“How are you not dead?” Panted Dean to Garth when they came to a stop at a crossroads. The wolf wasn’t listening though and he howled triumphantly and sprinted right.

Dean groaned and ran after him, finding at least a little pleasure in the fact that the usually composed Castiel was also beginning to flag, his hair mussed and his trenchcoat rumpled and his frown growing deeper and deeper with his increasing irritation. Dean chuckled quietly to himself and focused on breathing. They came to a halt a few moments later.

“I’m not built for this running shtick,” wheezed Loki as he slumped down someone’s garden wall. He glanced around the compact alley, wondering why they’d stopped here.

“Probably because you eat so much sugar,” commented Sam and Loki glared at him.

“We can’t all be rabbits like you.”

Sam glanced down at Loki and offered him a hand. The trickster raised his eyebrow and took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

“That was really kind of you to save that lady, by the way,” Sam said softly.

Loki rubbed at his arm again. “She didn’t seem to think so.”

“Well, that’s because she’s ungrateful,” Sam snorted and Loki cocked an eyebrow at the hunter but said nothing. 

Garth began padding around the alley in a hectic pattern, nosing at walls and gates in between shoving his nose into the pavement. He paused at a section of wall that looked like all the others and began chunnering to himself, huffing and rumbling and whimpering as though having a conversation with himself.

Suddenly, he stared expectantly at the Winchesters and their monsters, hopping from paw to paw as if he needed to relieve his bladder.

Sam and Dean edged towards the gate leading to the garden, guns raised. The walls were over seven feet tall and not even Sam could peer over them. The gate was a solid wooden door that was bricked up at the top to stop people from climbing over.

Dean kicked the gate down.

A ghoul attached itself to his leg.

He yelped as his back hit the floor and he was dragged into the yard by a snarling ghoul that was trying its hardest to rip his flesh from his body. He kicked out at it and it grunted in pain before crawling up his body like something out of _‘The Exorcist’_ and clawing at his face. Sam shot at its shoulder, distracting it whilst Dean threw it off his own body. He scrambled to his feet and aimed his gun at its head. 

It screeched angrily and suddenly lunged at Garth, pinning him to the floor as it tore at his neck and Garth whined in pain, desperately trying to escape.

The ghoul had taken the form of Garth’s dead owner and she clawed at the wolf’s fur with long, blue false nails as she opened her mouth wide, ready to bite into his throat.

Sam unloaded a bullet into her brain.

The ghoul paused in confusion, lifting a hand to her bleeding skull, so Sam unloaded three more bullets into her brain until she collapsed, dead.

Garth scrambled out from underneath her, running towards Sam and hiding behind him as he whimpered pathetically and licked at his bloodied fur.

Sam slowly lowered the gun as Dean did the same and the younger Winchester glanced down at the werewolf pressed into the back of his legs. Without really thinking, he stroked Garth’s head soothingly, rubbing his ears and scratching behind them in praise.

Garth relaxed into the petting, closing his eyes as his tail began to wiggle.

“…Dude,” Dean said with a frown and Sam quickly snatched his hand away with an embarrassed wince.

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking,” Sam admitted, then startled when Garth began nudging his palm with head.

Dean watched, disturbed as Sam hesitantly patted the wolf’s head again, stroking him when Garth wriggled into his side insistently until he found a comfortable position.

Loki chuckled behind them as Castiel approached, leaning down to heal the affectionate wolf.

“Made a new friend?” Loki teased, smirking at Sam and the younger hunter glanced down at the happily rumbling werewolf and felt a small smile tug at his own lips.

Once Castiel had finished healing the werewolf, Garth morphed into his human form _(where did those clothes come from?)_ and stretched. He grinned appreciatively at Castiel and scratched behind his ear before glancing at the ghoul.

“So… what happens now?” He asked innocently and Sam shoved his hands into his pockets.

“We call the Dead Man and he’ll pick up the body then we call an ambulance to deal with the woman back at the apartment.” He glanced to Dean. “We’ll have to ring the relatives.”

Dean shook his head. “Let the medics deal with that. We have another problem.” He gestured to Garth.

Sam blinked in realisation. He’d forgotten they couldn’t just let Garth go free. He would have to be delivered to an adoption centre, where he would undergo some tests to make sure he was still fit to live with humans. If they deemed him too traumatised, he would be euthanised.

 _‘Like an animal,’_ Sam thought with a scowl.

“Umm… you’re gonna have to come with us,” Sam said quietly, the words sounding wrong and bitter on his tongue. “We have to take you to the nearest adoption centre.”

Garth nodded placidly. “Okay,” he smiled. “Do you have to cuff me?”

Rules were monsters were supposed to be restrained when entering the adoption centre, to prevent any unnecessary altercations with other monsters or humans entering and leaving the centre. Many monsters entering the centre had unknown temperaments and as such, extra precautions needed to be set in place.

“No,” huffed Dean, glancing over the werewolf. “No, you don’t need any restraints. Come on, we’ll take you to the car.”

Garth plodded after them happily, basking in the Summer warmth as the sunlight bathed his face.

“Y’know,” he hummed after a few minutes of walking, “I’m awful sad Beverly’s dead and all, but I can’t wait to sleep on an actual mattress instead of a dog bed.” He perked up. “Hey, do you think they’ll give me a plate to eat off at the centre, with like… real food? My stomach’s starting to turn a bit with all the dog kibble. I don’t even mind eating off the floor as long as it’s clean.” 

Sam and Dean stilled. 

“…She made you eat dog chow out of a bowl?” Asked Dean, stunned. Garth tilted his head as if he couldn’t see what was so terrible about that. 

“I mean, it was _‘Pedigree’_ , so it wasn’t bad quality.”

Dean’s eyes rounded as Sam gaped at the werewolf. 

“She made you sleep in a dog bed?” He breathed.

“It was comfortable enough,” shrugged Garth. “Although it was second-hand so the padding was a little worn and I caught fleas from it the first day I slept in it, but it’s clean now and I am itch-free.” He grinned. “You guys think I should bring the bed with me or something?”

Sam and Dean continued to gape at the werewolf as Loki and Castiel lowered their gazes sadly.

Garth frowned after a few moments. “I am a werewolf. Part canine. Don’t know why you guys look so surprised.”

“You’re not a dog,” murmured Sam, shaking his head. “She shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

Garth raised a confused eyebrow. “…You guys are human, right? You do know I’m a monster?”

Sam and Dean flinched as though they’d been struck, remaining silent.

“It’s not so bad,” offered Garth, then he frowned as a thought occurred to him. “I hope they let me use the toilet instead of making me go outside. It’s kind of embarrassing when people are staring at you when you’re trying to pee… amongst other things. I hope they don’t just give me a bunch of newspapers to go on either. I never liked that.”

Sam and Dean slowly raised their horrified gazes to Garth’s face.

“Why did you let yourself be humiliated like that?” Asked Dean and Garth lifted an eyebrow.

“I hardly ‘let’ myself,” he said, fingering his collar. “I don’t really have much of a choice.”

Dean stared at the red collar for a long moment before turning stiffly and continuing his journey towards the car. Sam glanced at the quiet Castiel and Loki, eying up their collars for a brief few seconds before trailing after his brother.

Garth was just happy to have been let out of the apartment without a lead.

 

* * *

 

Sam and Dean watched on silently as Castiel and Loki approached the body. She was human, nineteen or twenty, and she wore a pretty green cocktail dress and green suede shoes, both items tarnished with an alarming amount of blood.

This was Castiel and Loki’s fifth case with the Winchesters and Sam and Dean had quickly learned to listen to their judgements and observations.

They were currently in the women’s lavatory of a popular student nightclub. It was a little past midnight and a member of staff had found the dead girl sprawled underneath the door, one arm outstretched in a futile plea for help. Other patrons had ignored her, thinking she had merely passed out from the alcohol, similar to how most of them were at risk of doing, but the staff member had noticed the trail of blood trickling between the tiles and had immediately raced to her boss. He had closed the club and called the police. Now he was scowling in disapproval as he watched Loki and Castiel inspect the body.

“I don’t see why they have to be here,” he complained for the third time that evening and Dean shot him a heated glare, too tired to consider starting an argument.

“Just let them do their thing, okay?” He huffed.

Loki made a soft noise of victory and gestured the Winchesters over. They wandered towards him curiously and he pulled her dress down just enough to reveal her lower chest. The owner made a noise of protest and was about to ask Loki to show some respect for the poor girl when Sam put a hand up, cutting him off.

“What is that?” Frowned Sam, leaning in to take a closer look at the great chunk of tissue missing from her chest, a series of smaller holes and gashes of all different shapes and sizes circling it.

“To me, it looks a lot like a leviathan bite,” said Loki. “What do you think, Cas?”

Castiel brushed the girl’s red hair from her face and to the owner’s and Winchesters’ collective disgust, placed two fingers inside her mouth. His fingers came back sticky with a thick black liquid that made him grimace. He grabbed some toilet paper to wipe the liquid away.

“Definitely leviathan,” he nodded.

Sam’s eyes widened. “I thought all the leviathans were destroyed? Aren’t they insanely dangerous? They’ve got like… every ability out there, right?”

Loki rolled his shoulders. “Not quite. They can’t heal or snap things out of thin air, but they do have super strength, can shapeshift, have a never-ending supply of teeth, are possibly the most intelligent beings on Earth and oh, their blood is toxic to every living being.” He pointed to the black goo beginning to ooze from the girl’s lips. “And they’re pretty much indestructible.”

Dean scowled. “Great. How are we supposed to find and catch something like that?”

“And what are you going to do with it when you catch it?” Pointed out Loki. “It’s not going to be restrained by a pair of handcuffs and a shock collar.”

“Aren’t they susceptible to _Borax_?” Asked Sam. “Sodium borate solution?”

Castiel nodded. “I’ve read that too. Although I’ve never seen one in person; I’m not sure how effective it will be.”

“I thought we had a massive purge of them just under a century ago?” Frowned Dean. “Rounded them all up with the help of angels and demons and a bunch of other monsters, chopped their heads off, stuck them in an incinerator and buried the ashes in lead vaults twenty feet beneath the desert.” Dean looked up at Castiel and Loki. “How can one be here now?”

“Maybe they didn’t catch them all,” mused Castiel. “They are rather difficult to kill.”

“And now one of these things is running ‘round Lawrence,” huffed Dean. “Fantastic. We need to notify the station and Vic can deal with the government side of things. I don’t do politics.”

He climbed to his feet and glanced over the dead girl with pity. “We should probably call the relatives too.”

Sam nodded and pulled out his phone as Dean turned to the nervous-looking owner. 

“Go home and rest,” he suggested. “We’ll deal with this mess and by the time you come in tomorrow, everything will have been cleaned up and you’ll think the whole thing was a bad dream.”

“What about the leviathan?” Murmured the owner, looking troubled.

Dean waved dismissively. “We’ll take care of that. We can lock up if you give us your address. We’ll drop off the key once we’re done here.”

The owner nodded shakily and handed over his key without protest, quickly rattling off his details. Dean smiled in thanks and led him towards the door. Once he had left, Dean returned to his brother and their monsters.

“Okay, let’s get this cleaned up.”

 

* * *

 

Sam couldn’t help but smile as he watched the trickster bustle around the kitchen, humming to himself as he grabbed spices and fresh vegetables to add to the wok sizzling away on the stove. He practically danced as he searched the cupboards for rice.

Sam had never seen Loki so exuberant. He seemed genuinely happy to be working in the kitchen and he hadn’t stopped grinning since entering.

“Anything I can help you with?” Asked Sam after a few minutes of watching him enjoy himself and the trickster paused to glance at him.

“…You could make me a hot chocolate?” He asked hopefully, eyes wide and pleading and Sam found himself smiling again as he nodded and ventured further into the kitchen. Loki quickly returned to humming some obscure pop song as he stirred the concoction in the wok.

Sam inhaled deeply. Whatever it was smelled delicious.

He presented the trickster with a mug of hot chocolate and Loki sipped at it cautiously before throwing his head back with an exaggerated moan.

“That is some seriously good cocoa. You’re hired.” He winked at Sam before returning to the wok, guarding his drink with his free hand.

Sam grinned and leaned against the counter, content to watch the trickster work. There was something uplifting about watching Loki cook. His joy was contagious and Sam couldn’t help but want to be near him. It was an unexpected feeling but a good one nonetheless.

He peered into the wok. “What is all this?”

“Fajita mix,” beamed Loki proudly.

“Smells amazing,” offered Sam and the trickster’s eyes lit up, clearly pleased.

“Fresh ingredients are the way to go,” he commented, stirring the mixture of sliced chicken, onions, peppers and various other colourful vegetables he’d thrown in.

Saw watched how his eyes sparkled as he glanced down at his creation and the hunter wondered why he and Dean hadn’t let Loki cook earlier. Why have a miserable trickster when you can have a happy one?

“Want me to teach you how to make salsa from scratch?” Loki suddenly asked, sounding like a child excited to show their parents something they had made at school. Sam couldn’t have refused even if he’d have wanted to.

He nodded and Loki grabbed his wrist eagerly and dragged him to the other side of the kitchen, pulling tomatoes and chilli peppers from the fridge amongst coriander and salt and other ingredients from the cupboards. He handed Sam a knife and some tomatoes and showed him how to chop them before grabbing the peppers.

Sam quickly found he was enjoying himself as Loki chatted to him about different types of peppers and where they were found and he wondered if Loki’s own enthusiasm was making him more interested in something as mundane as chopping fruit.

Loki clicked his tongue, startling Sam out of his musings and the hunter raised his eyebrows when the trickster slid the knife out of his grip and demonstrated the correct dicing technique before passing the knife back with an expectant glance. Sam smiled apologetically and paid more attention to the task at hand, making Loki nod in approval as he returned to his peppers.

A little while later, Loki shooed Sam out of the kitchen to fetch Dean and Castiel whilst he plated the tortillas and scraped the wok contents into a large bowl.

Sam shook his head in amusement. He was getting kicked out of his own kitchen by a monster.

He frowned. Trickster. He was getting kicked out of his own kitchen by a _trickster._

“Dinner’s ready,” he called as he ventured into the lounge, only to stop and stare at the sight of Castiel huddled over a sketchpad, brows furrowed in concentration as his pencil glided over the page, Dean peering over his shoulder with an impressed expression.

Both Dean and Castiel glanced at him, but his brother’s gaze quickly returned to the sketchpad, which shocked Sam to no end because usually Dean was sprinting to the table like a ravenous dog searching for scraps when it came to food.

“Dude, take a look at this,” Dean murmured, entranced with the sketchpad.

Sam ambled over and wondered when Dean had gone out to buy the angel a sketchpad. 

He peered over the angel’s other shoulder and his eyebrows rocketed skywards at the black and white image of the Impala, her headlights facing out of the page and the light bouncing off her grill so sharply, it could have been mistaken for a photo.

“That’s amazing, Castiel,” he murmured, awed and the seraph quirked a shy smile.

“It isn’t finished,” he said softly and Dean stood.

“Well, tell us when it is and we’ll get a frame for it,” he stated. “That is definitely going on the wall.”

Castiel’s wings fluttered and he dropped his gaze. “You’re only saying that because it’s a picture of your car,” he mumbled, but he was smiling and he sounded honoured.

Dean shrugged. “Hey, you can draw as many pictures of Baby as you want and I’ll put ‘em all up. I don’t have enough photos of her.” He held his hand out for the angel to take.

Castiel looked surprised by the offer, but he quickly took Dean’s hand and the hunter tugged him to his feet and stared curiously as he stretched the kinks out of his wings.

They meandered to the dining room and their mouths watered as they took in the spicy smells and colourful sights of Loki’s fajita spread. 

There was a concoction of rice and lettuce and various sauces encircling a huge bowl of chicken, onion and pepper mix, with the warm tortillas in a pile close by.

Dean was quick to dig in, serving himself generous helpings of everything and as he took the first bite, he groaned pornographically, slumping in his seat as his eyes rolled back in his head until Sam made a sound of disgust.

“You are cooking more often,” he decided, wagging a finger at a grinning Loki. He took another bite of his overloaded fajita and sighed in contentment. “Next time I even think of restricting you from the kitchen, get the biggest knife you can find and stab me with it.”

Loki winced, looking away in shame.

“I’m sorry about that,” he murmured quietly. “You were very kind to not use that stake.”

A thick tension settled over the table then, Sam staring holes into his plate as Castiel’s gaze flicked between a frowning Dean and a subdued Loki.

Dean leaned forward across the table, catching Loki’s gaze.

“Hey,” he scowled. “I was out of order that day and I should’ve altered your collar a lot sooner than I did. I’m sorry.” He sat upright. “You had every right to be angry at me,” he admitted quietly.

Loki’s eyes widened, stunned. He stared at Dean for a few moments before frowning.

“I still shouldn’t have tried to stab you,” he grumbled.

“You probably shouldn’t have saved all those people on that burning train when you knew your collar wouldn’t like it, but there’s plenty of people who are grateful that you did; me and Sam included,” said Dean airily as he returned to his fajita.

Loki glanced between the two Winchesters, perking up at Sam’s warm gaze and they watched as a small, pleased smile tugged at the trickster’s lips. He said nothing more as he tucked into his own fajita but his eyes sparkled and he looked happy as the others complimented his cooking.

They chatted lightly as they ate, discussing the paperwork for the leviathan case.

 

* * *

 

“I want that creature put down!” Snarled the father, holding his wife to his side as she cradled their bawling, seven-month old baby in her arms. 

The shapeshifter flinched, bowing her head in fear. Her face was bloodied and bruised like the rest of her body and the father held a wrench in his hand, wielding it threateningly at the shapeshifter.

Sam and Dean glanced between the family, the dead Rottweiler in the corner of the room and the shapeshifter, noting the differences in shapes of the bruises and wounds marring the shapeshifter’s skin. Some had clearly been caused by the wrench, but others looked to have been caused by something else. Claws, maybe?

The baby bore similar claw marks and her arm was gushing with blood, teeth marks clearly visible. They appeared to be some sort of animal bite.

“That beast was standing over our baby, ready to maul her!” Hissed the father. “It managed to kill the dog before I got to it! I didn’t even have my activator on me! I had to hit it away with the first thing I could find!” He wiggled the wrench for emphasis.

Sam and Dean watched the shapeshifter curl up against the wall, her arms wrapping around her knees as tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“I want it euthanised,” growled the father, eying the monster with pure hatred.

Castiel and Loki stood back, watching the Winchesters glance between the baby and the shapeshifter. It was their tenth case with the Winchesters and the second time they had stood back to allow the brothers to work through the case themselves.

“May I ask what form you found her in, Mr. Kapplin?” Asked Sam carefully, nodding his head towards the shifter, and the father frowned as if he didn’t understand what that question had to do with his crying daughter.

“A panther. Now are you going to kill that thing or not?”

Sam watched his brother approach the shapeshifter slowly. She was brown-skinned with pretty eyes and a small face and when Dean crouched in front of her, she flinched and curled in on herself further, trying to evade his gaze. He spoke softly to her, encouraging her to show him her wounds and Sam turned away to give them some privacy.

“May I take a look at your daughter’s arm?” Sam asked, distracting Mr. Kapplin’s attention from Dean.

Mrs. Kapplin narrowed her eyes and held her baby closer. “I don’t see what that has to do with shooting that monster.”

“I just need to explore all possible scenarios,” Sam said, trying to get a glance at the teeth marks on the baby’s arm.

Mr. Kapplin scowled irritatedly. “Are you calling me a liar? Is my story not believable? Are my daughter’s wounds not proof enough that that filthy monster tried to kill her?”

Sam shook his head, holding his hands up placatingly. “I never said that, sir. It’s just protocol. If you’ll just give me a few seconds to glance over your daughter- ”

“The last hunters were quite happy to put a bullet through the skull of the other shifter that tried to attack my wife. How come you’re suddenly asking all these questions?” Asked Mr. Kapplin heatedly. 

Sam’s mouth drew into a thin line. “Mr. Kapplin, our job is to ensure the safety of both humans and monsters alike. It’s our duty to check all the evidence before making an accusation. If you have a problem with that, you’re quite welcome to make a complaint to the department. Your daughter’s arm, please.”

Mr. Kapplin’s eyes widened, stunned at being rebuffed. He gestured for his wife to hold out the baby’s arm.

Sam inspected the wound for a moment before nodding his thanks and joining his brother. He glanced over the shifter’s wounds and Dean caught his gaze and shook his head subtly.

Sam stood. “Mr. Kapplin, your daughter and…”

“Ananya,” Dean stated.

Sam nodded. “Your daughter and Ananya share the same bite wounds. They look more like a dog bite than any form of feline. You said she killed your dog?”

The father nodded, scowling. “I’ve had Billy for seven years and that thing tore him to pieces.”

“Ananya here says ol’ Billy got into the cot and dragged the baby out. Says he was gonna kill her so she jumped to your daughter’s defence,” stated Dean. “Way I see it, Billy got jealous of the new baby because he wasn’t the centre of attention anymore. Shapeshifter saved your daughter before Billy could shred her.”

Mr. Kapplin looked furious. “Of course it’ll tell you that! It’s a monster and it knows it’ll die if it hurts a human! Are you really gonna take that beast’s word over mine? Over what I saw with my own two eyes? Billy would never hurt our daughter!”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “So you were in the room when it happened? You saw everything? You saw Ananya drag your daughter from her cot, turn into a panther and try to kill her?”

Mr. Kapplin paused. “…Well, not exactly… But that’s not the point! I don’t need to have seen it to know what happened.”

“Do both you and your wife work, Mr. Kapplin?” Asked Dean suddenly and the father frowned and nodded hesitantly.

“I don’t see what- ”

“And who looks after the baby when you’re not around?” Dean cut in smoothly. Mr. Kapplin shifted uneasily.

“The creature.”

“I see,” hummed Dean. “And has Ananya shown any hostile inclinations towards your daughter before?”

Mr. Kapplin shook his head slowly.

Dean nodded. “Can you pass the baby over to Ananya for a second, please?”

Ananya glanced between the Winchesters curiously, her tears dried. Mrs. Kapplin clutched her baby closer but one stern look from Dean had the woman crossing the room and passing the baby to a huddled up Ananya. The shifter cradled the baby gently, a watery smile lighting her face when the child abruptly stopped crying and cuddled into her chest. She held it close and hummed softly to it.

Dean and Sam watched the pair for a moment before turning to an outraged Mr. Kapplin.

“If we show her the dog, do you think she’ll have the same reaction?” Asked Dean drily. 

“That means nothing!” Snarled Mr. Kapplin. “I want that beast shot!”

Ananya held the baby closer, kissing its head tenderly.

“Sir, your daughter’s wounds match the jaw of your dog,” said Sam calmly. “A panther has a much wider muzzle. The shapeshifter is not to blame, but if you desire further proof, I am quite happy to demonstrate the differences between a canine and large feline jaw as long as Ms. Ananya is willing to morph into her panther form?”

Mr. Kapplin sagged as Ananya nodded eagerly.

“Shall we?” Asked Sam, gesturing to the dead dog. Mr. Kapplin plodded after him slowly, Ananya returning the baby to its mother.

After a brief canine dentistry lesson, the father heaved out a sigh and stood, Ananya returning to her humanoid form. 

“I think you owe Ananya a ‘thank you’ for saving your daughter,” hummed Sam.

Mr. Kapplin rolled his shoulders stiffly. “Thank you, Ananya,” he mumbled. “I apologise for wrongly accusing you.”

The shapeshifter perked up, face brightening as she nodded and stared at Sam and Dean gratefully. Sam offered her a small smile in return before turning to the mother and father who wouldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“A vet will handle Billy with appropriate care. Unfortunately, we can only take care of humans and monsters,” he said with as much sympathy as he could muster for a couple who, a few minutes ago, had no problem with blowing an innocent girl’s brain out.

The couple nodded tersely and Dean winked at Ananya before turning towards a smiling Castiel and Loki. He nodded towards the door wordlessly and they followed him out of the building, leaving Sam to close the case with the couple.

Once Sam finally joined them in the car, Dean twisted in his seat and raised an eyebrow at Castiel and Loki.

“What are you two so happy about?” He asked, glancing between their warm smiles.

“You solved that case without our help,” replied Castiel softly, almost proudly. Dean blinked and straightened.

“It’s not like we’ve never solved a case on our own before,” he huffed, brushing off the praise. 

“This time, you were fair,” said Loki pointedly. “You worked it out correctly instead of doing what was convenient.” He quirked his lips upwards. “You did your jobs properly.”

Sam and Dean were silent for a moment before Dean turned in his seat and switched on the ignition. The car rolled onto the road and Sam and Dean felt small smiles pulling at their own lips as they set off home.

 

* * *

 

Dean was working on Baby’s engine when Castiel ventured outside and sat on the drive, sketchpad in hand as he watched Dean sweat under the hot sun. He said nothing as he began sketching and Dean glanced at him for a moment before returning his attention to the pistons. 

A little while later, he wiped his hands on an old rag and ambled over to Castiel, peeking over his shoulder to take a look at his work. His eyebrows lifted at the unfinished image of him bent over, oil streaked over his cheek as he tuned up Baby, the car’s chrome finishings gleaming under the sunlight. It was mostly outlines with only a little shading and some fine detail, but Dean could tell the completed work would be amazing, as most of Castiel’s sketches were.

He rubbed the rag over his cheek until his skin was clean.

“You want a drink?” Asked Dean as he screwed the rag into a ball, ready to be washed.

Castiel glanced up at him after a few seconds of shading and his wings fluttered in a manner Dean had come to recognise as the angel being content.

“Yes, please,” he said politely.

“Green, chamomile, ginger, elderberry…?” Dean asked. Castiel’s favourite drink was tea and Sam had bought a rather varied selection of herbal teas the angel had so far enjoyed experimenting with.

“Ginger, please,” Castiel hummed and Dean nodded and headed inside.

Five minutes later, he returned with a beer, a ginger tea and a packet of chocolate chip cookies. He passed the tea to Castiel and seated himself beside the angel, placing the cookies between them. He swigged his beer and watched Castiel draw. It was comfortable and relaxing and although Dean had initially been surprised to find watching the angel sketch soothing, he had made a habit of sitting beside Castiel and chatting lightly with him whenever the angel had his sketchpad out. If Castiel’s gently fluttering wings were anything to go by, the angel didn’t mind his company either.

Dean leaned back on the warm stone of the drive and closed his eyes against the bright sunlight, listening to the calming scratches of pencil against paper.

 

* * *

 

“Dude, you’re gonna be Dean’s best friend forever,” snorted Sam as Loki removed the golden pie from the oven. He was wearing a frilly pink apron he’d snapped up out of nowhere just to make Sam laugh and his oven mitts were littered with yellow, cartoon ducklings. 

“He’s going to be very disappointed because this one’s for you,” hummed Loki. “Rhubarb. I’m showing you how they should taste before I teach you how to make one.” He set the pie on the counter and it steamed lightly, filling the kitchen with a mouth-watering, sweet aroma.

“I don’t do sweet stuff. It’s bad for you,” Sam protested and Loki raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Right, so the _Twix_ stash hidden under the floorboards beneath your bed is Dean’s?” He smirked and the tips of Sam’s ears reddened.

“How do you know about that?” He asked accusingly and Loki shrugged.

“You keep leaving your bedroom door open. I’m a curious creature.” He cut into the pie and placed a piece on one of the plates he’d just retrieved from the cupboard. “And I like chocolate.” He offered the plate to Sam and took one for himself.

Sam took a tentative bite and his eyelids fluttered closed at the burst of sweetness, sour and spice exploding over his tongue.

Loki smiled at his reaction and chewed on his own slice, watching Sam’s expression carefully.

“Okay, you have got to teach me how to make this,” said Sam once he’d swallowed and the trickster grinned, pleased by his enthusiasm. He let the hunter have another bite before beckoning him over to the sink.

“Wash your hands and we’ll get started,” Loki ordered.

Sam quickly did as asked. He had never been all that into cooking until Loki started teaching him his recipes and now Sam regularly watched the trickster cook and bake and create new dishes for them all to taste. Loki practically glowed with happiness when he was in the kitchen and Sam enjoyed being a taste tester for all of the trickster’s creations. If he wasn’t careful, he would pile forty pounds on.

It was pleasant chatting with Loki as well. The trickster was smarter than Sam had initially given him credit for and he seemed to have a broad knowledge base. He often asked Sam questions about the books he was reading or the mythology he was studying and, to Sam’s delight, he appeared genuinely interested in what the younger hunter had to say.

“So, what’s the novel this week?” Asked Loki as he grabbed eggs and butter from the fridge.

Sam leaned against the counter with a smirk. “Fifty shades.”

Loki nearly dropped the eggs. He turned to Sam with wide, startled eyes.

Sam shrugged. “Everyone was talking about it. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about so I dropped in at the local library.”

Loki blinked. Then a dirty smirk crawled over his face and Sam couldn’t help but grin in return.

“What do you think about it?” The trickster asked innocently. Sam chuckled.

“Actually, it’s pretty crap. Teenagers could probably write better smut.”

Loki smirked gleefully. “Have you ever heard of fanfiction?” Sam shook his head and Loki grinned wider. “Oh boy. I’m gonna open your eyes to the world of word porn, kiddo.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at the nickname and decided he liked it.

“List your favourite lines of Fifty Shades whilst you mix the flour, eggs and butter,” instructed Loki and Sam chuckled and stood beside the trickster as he began cracking eggs and pouring flour into a large mixing bowl.

He watched Loki grab his slice of pie and settle against the counter as he waited for the hunter to rattle off some quotes.

Sam shook his head in amusement and began his list.

 

* * *

 

Victor eyed Castiel and Loki warily as he handed the Winchesters the latest case notes. Recently, the Winchesters had been bringing their monsters into the station just so they wouldn’t be stuck in the house all day and their boss didn’t like it. He didn’t trust them around legal documents and police computers and he certainly didn’t trust them when it came to tagging along with Sam and Dean on cases.

“Are you sure you’re not better just leaving them at home?” Murmured Victor, frowning at the two monsters. “What if they try to interfere with the case?”

Sam shook his head. “They’re very helpful actually. They’ve helped us solve quite a few cases.”

“Relax, Vic,” chuckled Dean as he glanced through the notes. “They’re fine.”

Victor didn’t look so sure. “It’s ‘Sir’,” he grumbled at Dean. Dean smirked and saluted lazily before whirling on his heel and marching out of the office.

The Winchesters and their monsters slid into the car and Sam scanned through the notes.

“Says here a neighbour has been complaining about the noise in the house next door. He’s filed a number of complaints over the past few months but the last police check came up with nothing and as such, offered a warning only. Neighbour claims he hears yelling and banging multiple times a week, usually during the evenings. Says a man lives next door with his teenage son and the mother walked out about six months ago. Apparently, they live with an angel. Seraph.” Sam passed the file to Castiel and Loki. 

“So, why are you guys getting called out for a noise disturbance?” Frowned Loki as Castiel read through the notes. 

“Because the neighbour also claims he’s seen the angel throw both father and son across the room with a flick of his wrist,” replied Sam. “We get called out when magic is involved.”

Loki and Castiel nodded in understanding and returned their attention to the file.

Dean parked up outside the house and the moment they dragged themselves into the hot Summer air, there was a shout, a hissed curse and what sounded like glass smashing.

Sam and Dean raced towards the front door, banging on it for a few moments. There was a thump and a pained cry and Dean kicked down the door.

They readied their guns, angel-killing bullets loaded, and ran into the lounge, glancing around the room quickly.

They froze at the sight of a tall, tawny-winged angel curled up on the floor, arms protecting his bloodied face and tattered wings wrapped around his battered body.

Above him stood a blonde, muscular man and a sixteen-year-old with a similar profile, both of whom had a couple of bruises on their arms and faces. They were kicking the angel viciously and the son held an iron rod of some kind; something that looked like it would be used in scaffolding. Surrounding the angel was a shattered glass ornament.

For a moment, all Sam and Dean could see was a broken and bleeding Castiel huddled in on himself on the floor, being beaten and abused by a couple of cruel humans. Their throats dried up and they found it difficult to swallow as they stared at the abhorrent scene.

“KPD,” Dean barked, flashing his badge. “Move away from the angel!”

Father and son paused, looking up in surprise and the Winchesters could see the extent of the bruising marring their faces.

The father, David Paxon, perked up. “This filthy beast hit my son!” He snarled, kicking the angel once more in the stomach, making him cough blood. “I want it shot!”

“Your son hit me with a pipe first,” the angel growled, glaring at the older man with pure loathing.

“Shut up, mongrel!” Yelled the son, smashing the pipe into the angel’s face. The angel cried out in agony and threw his arms over his face once more.

The Winchesters had a flashback to when Loki first joined them and how defiant he had been; desperate to get out of his collar and ready to fight anyone who got in his way. They looked at the blood decorating the angel’s wings and clothes and felt their stomachs churn.

“Hey!” Snapped Sam. “We said move away from the angel!” He glared at the teen until he shuffled backwards, shocked.

David’s expression suddenly darkened. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I want this animal put down for hurting my son!”

Dean scowled at the son. “Did you hit him first?”

“No!” Exclaimed the teen. “He’s wild! He attacked me!”

The angel snorted. “You humans are all the same. You’re all violent monsters who take sick pleasure in abusing creatures when they are restrained and unable to fight back. You’re cowards.”

The father scowled and made to kick the angel again but Dean sped forwards and grabbed his arm.

“Enough!” He snapped. He glanced at the angel. “What’s your name?”

The angel turned an icy blue gaze upon him, filled with hatred and disgust. “Gadreel.”

“Gadreel, who threw the first punch?” Dean huffed.

“Brock,” growled Gadreel, jerking his head towards the angry teenager. “Then my _master_ joined him.” He spat the word ‘master’ as if it burned his tongue.

Dean nodded and returned his attention to the father. “Is he telling the truth?”

“No,” David snapped. “He’s a filthy liar as well as an abomination. All he’s done since coming here is fight us and try to break his collar.”

“I fight you because you take pleasure in torturing me,” snarled Gadreel. He coughed and blood spattered over the floor.

Dean watched the red liquid trickle down the angel’s lips before turning to Loki and Castiel. He subtly nodded to Gadreel and Castiel slid over to him, crouching by his side.

The taller angel stared at Castiel in surprise as he began to heal his wounds. He flicked his gaze between Dean and Castiel in confusion, as if he couldn’t quite grasp why the hunter would allow another angel to help him.

David scowled at Castiel, clenching his hand into a fist as he stepped forwards, ready to punish the black-winged angel for interfering.

“What are you doing, you feathered freak?” He hissed, preparing to snatch at Castiel’s wing.

Just before his fingers could brush the raven feathers, Dean yanked his arms backwards and kicked the backs of his legs until he collapsed to his knees with a grunt. He snapped a pair of cuffs on the man.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean growled lowly, gaze shining with cool anger.

David stared up at him in astonishment. Then his face soured. “Whose side are you on?”

“Whoever the innocent party is,” Dean bit out. “And by the looks of it, that’s not you, pal.”

Castiel helped Gadreel to his feet and the tawny-winged angel stared at Dean wide-eyed, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“You’re supposed to stand up for your own kind,” spat David. “Why are you defending these mutants?”

“Because it’s our job to ensure everyone’s safety, not just humans’,” stated Sam as he holstered his gun.

Suddenly, he cried out in pain and clutched his head. No blood was smeared over his hand when he pulled it away, but his skull was throbbing and there was a slight ringing in his ears.

Brock swung the pipe behind him, ready for another round. 

Loki appeared in front of Brock with a murderous gaze, ignoring the buzz of his collar. He quickly grabbed the pipe to stop the teen from striking his face, and wrapped his free hand around his wrist, snapping it cleanly. Brock whimpered and staggered backwards out of his hold, cradling his broken wrist as the pipe clattered to the floor.

Sam gaped at Loki as the trickster turned to him, ridding him of his headache before he crossed his arms and glared daggers into Brock’s head.

“Teach your brat some manners,” growled Loki, glancing at David briefly before returning to intimidating the teen into bowing his head.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” rumbled Dean. “Mr. Paxon, you and your son will accompany me to the station. We’d like to ask you a few questions.” He smiled sarcastically. “Don’t worry, Gadreel will be well cared for in his future.”

Dean flicked his gaze to Loki. “You want to do the honours?” He asked, gesturing to Brock and Loki grinned gleefully as Sam handed him a pair of handcuffs. With a click of his fingers, the cuffs appeared around the teen’s wrists and Loki was quick to jump behind him and march him to the car, Dean following with David.

Sam waited for the engine to switch on before he turned a gentle gaze to the stunned Gadreel.

“I’m also going to have to ask you a few questions,” he said softly as Castiel came to stand by his side.

Gadreel glanced between the pair. “…Who are you?” He asked quietly, shocked at the mutual respect between them.

Sam quirked a smile. “Sam Winchester, hunting unit. This is my…” He hesitated. The word ‘monster’ seemed strangely distasteful after what he had seen today. “Angel,” he settled on. “This is my angel, Castiel.” 

Castiel raised an amused eyebrow as Gadreel blinked.

“The other hunter is Dean, my brother and Loki is his trickster,” Sam continued.

“…Don’t you hunters usually arrest our kind?” Gadreel frowned. “Why did you defend me?”

“Well, you were the one on the floor being kicked and battered with a steel pipe,” shrugged Sam. “And your owners were quite happy to hurt Castiel and take a swing at me so I’m guessing they’re the guilty ones here.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’re about to tell us you were the one that started the fight?”

Gadreel shook his head quickly. “I’ll admit I have started a few fights in the past, but they welcomed me into their home with a baseball bat to the head, a ten-second shock from the collar and a promise that if I ever stepped out of line, they would break my legs and saw my wings off. The more threats I gained, the more I began to fight back. This time however, they caught me off-guard.” He glanced away. “They asked me to clean the house. I was dusting and Brock crept up behind me and hit me with the pipe. I tried to fight back but it’s difficult when there’s two against one and the one is wearing a shock collar controlled by the other two.”

Sam grimaced. “I see. Do they… regularly abuse you like that? Hit you for no reason? Threaten you for fun?”

Gadreel nodded carefully. “I know I am their slave, but if they just asked me to do things instead of threatening me or wounding me, I would be far more efficient and more willing to aid them.” He lowered his wings slightly as if concerned Sam would beat him.

Sam watched as Castiel raised his wings into a relaxed position, showing Gadreel he was safe.

“You’re not a slave, Gadreel,” frowned Sam, but he was beginning to doubt that statement the longer he spent with Loki and Castiel. “You don’t deserve abuse.”

The tawny-winged angel fingered his collar absent-mindedly as he watched Castiel’s wings. He furrowed his brows and glanced at Sam.

“We are the property of humans. Does that not make us slaves?”

“Legally, domesticated animals are the property of humans. That doesn’t make them slaves,” argued Sam, then he winced because had he really just compared the angels to animals?

Gadreel scowled but Castiel’s wings performed an odd flicking motion before tilting to one side and falling into a relaxed position once more. Gadreel’s expression softened.

“Still, are we not used for whatever humans please? Are our powers not yours to exploit, no matter the effects on us?” Asked Gadreel quietly and Sam flinched because he and Dean had been using Castiel and Loki to heal humans and other creatures without a thought as to how that could affect them.

“…Yes,” Sam confessed, unable to look either angel in the eye.

“Then your perception of our freedom confuses me,” stated Gadreel. “You say we are not slaves, yet you admit we are yours to use.”

“I never said you were free,” murmured Sam, glancing at Castiel’s collar. “I’m becoming aware of how little freedom and how few rights you actually have.”

Castiel blinked, whipping his head around to stare at Sam.

There was an awkward silence consisting of both angels staring at him curiously before Sam cleared his throat and gazed at Gadreel.

“Do you want to stay here?” He asked. “Or would you like to be rehomed?”

Gadreel didn’t hesitate. “Take me to the adoption centre, please,” he nearly begged. Sam’s chest hurt.

“Do you have any belongings you’d like to take with you?”

“I own nothing,” said Gadreel, wings bouncing and ready to leave. Sam’s chest ached more. He pulled a card from his pocket and offered it to the tawny-winged angel.

“If you have any trouble at your new home, call me. We’ll get there as soon as we can.”

Gadreel blinked in bewilderment as he took the card. He stared at it for a few moments, as if committing it to memory before slowly meeting Sam’s gaze.

“Are you really a legitimate hunter?” He asked cautiously. 

Sam’s stomach swirled with unease. How corrupt and prejudiced was the police department if non-human creatures had to ask if they were real officers, just because they had shown them a bit of decency?

“I am,” he affirmed with a nod. “Come on, I’ll call us a taxi.”

Gadreel’s wings dared to relax as he stood a little taller and followed Sam and a thoughtful Castiel out of the house.

He wondered if his new owner would be nice like Sam and Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loooooong chapter :) Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8

Loki sprawled over the couch, a bowl of popcorn perched on his stomach, which he dipped into every fifty seconds. 

Sam entered the living room with two beers, a tea and a hot chocolate. He passed the drinks around and frowned at Loki petulantly as he refused to make way for the younger hunter.

“Scoot over,” said Sam and Loki smirked and grabbed another handful of popcorn.

Sam yanked the bowl off his stomach, holding it high in the air and grinned when the trickster whined pathetically and made ‘grabby hands’ at him. 

“Scoot over,” Sam said again and Loki clicked his fingers, the bowl disappearing from Sam’s hand and reappearing on his stomach once more. He smirked and continued munching on the toffee popcorn.

Sam sagged. Loki being a trickster gave him a rather large advantage over Sam when it came to movie night.

Castiel blinked and the popcorn bowl nestled itself between him and Dean. The older Winchester made a delighted grunt and stuffed his face with a handful.

Loki scowled. “That’s cheating.” 

Castiel popped a few pieces into his mouth, smirking at the trickster.

Whilst Loki was distracted, Sam grabbed his legs and hauled him down the couch until a seat lay available by his head. The trickster yelped in surprise and Sam raced to the seat before Loki had a chance to reclaim the entirety of the couch.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam grinned and the angel smiled and flicked a wing in acknowledgement. 

“Traitor,” grumbled Loki as he sat up and clicked his fingers, the popcorn bowl returning to his lap. Despite his grumpiness, he held the bowl out for Sam.

Dean made a soft sound of disappointment, which quickly turned into a wide grin when Castiel rolled his eyes and magicked up a bowl of _Maltesers._

“We all comfortable?” He asked around a mouthful of chocolate and when he received three nods of approval, he hit ‘play’ on the remote and the opening theme of _‘Thor’_ blasted into the room.

“Please tell me you have a cape like that?” Whispered Sam when Tom Hiddleston arrived on screen in full headdress and armour. 

Loki chuckled quietly. “I can create a cape like that if you want.”

“And the helmet?” Grinned Sam.

“You have a thing for supervillains in armour?” Teased Loki and when Sam glanced at him, he was wearing the exact same costume Tom Hiddleston was on-screen.

Sam barked out a laugh as Loki wiggled his eyebrows and Castiel and Dean swivelled their heads.

“Awesome,” murmured Dean, glancing over Loki’s outfit in awe. Castiel merely rolled his eyes and returned to the movie.

With a click of his fingers, the costume disappeared, replaced by Loki’s usual jeans and a red shirt. 

“Helmet’s too heavy for my liking,” he murmured to Sam. “Kills my neck.”

Sam quirked a smile. “That’s pretty cool that you can do that.”

The trickster winked and returned his attention to the screen.

Sam gazed at him fondly. He hadn’t been too impressed with Loki when he had first arrived at their home, but six months had passed, three months of which Castiel and Loki had worked their cases with them, and Sam realised how much he genuinely enjoyed Loki’s company. 

Castiel and Loki had unique personalities and Sam learned something new about them every day. He never thought he would take such a shine to two non-humans, but now he’d got to know them a little more, he realised how closed-minded he’d been. How prejudiced and unfair he’d been towards monsters of all kinds. 

Monsters weren’t slaves. They weren’t mindless animals, intent on destroying all life. They weren’t… well, _monsters._

They were just people. People who had hopes and dreams and emotions, just like humans. They each had their own personality and their own likes and dislikes. Just like humans, some were good and some were bad and some were neither.

Some were funny, like Loki, others were really intelligent, like Castiel. Some enjoyed sports or exploring and some loved being social. They were all different, all had their own quirks.

And humans abused them.

The corners of Sam’s mouth tugged downwards. 

Humans abused monsters just because they were different, because they couldn’t fight back. They took sick pleasure in hurting monsters or forcing them to work as slaves. Humans used monsters however they pleased without checking the monster’s health and welfare. Very few people seemed to stand up for them or even treat them nicely and most monsters were forced into doing things they hated.

Loki had been forced to sell his body to strangers who wanted to hurt him and Castiel had been blamed for something he hadn’t done, just because he wasn’t human. No wonder monsters were so bitter and fearful of humans. They were tortured for the tiniest of mistakes and punished for standing up for themselves. It wasn’t fair.

“You okay there, kiddo?” Asked Loki quietly. “You’re looking a little melancholy.”

Sam snapped his gaze to the trickster’s face and quirked a small smile.

“Just thinking,” he said softly. 

The trickster raised an eyebrow. “You thinking of ways to steal my popcorn? ‘Cos you know, you can just ask.” He offered Sam the bowl.

Sam chuckled and grabbed a handful. “Wasn’t what I was thinking about, but now that you mention it…”

Loki narrowed his gaze and hugged the bowl to his body. “Don’t even think about it, Winchester.”

Loki eventually returned his attention to the TV and Sam glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

How could they have seen Loki as anything other than the mischievous, fun-loving trickster he was? He was immensely protective over Castiel and he had shielded both Sam and Dean on a number of cases when they hadn’t been quick enough to defend themselves against monsters and humans alike. Loki was kind-hearted too, as proved by the incident with the train and all the lives he’d saved despite his overreactive collar. 

How could they have thought him cruel and cold? They were lucky to have him helping them, just as they were lucky to have Castiel.

Castiel and Loki weren’t just a couple of monsters. They weren’t pets to send back to the adoption centre when the Winchesters grew bored with them. Castiel and Loki were their friends. Their unofficial partners in investigations. They deserved to be treated better than they had been in the past.

Sam flicked his gaze to his brother. It was time for them to stop comparing monsters to Ruby and Lilith. It was time for them to stop likening every non-human creature to the thing that slaughtered their mother and the wild beasts that murdered their father. Castiel and Loki were nothing like those creatures.

“Sam?” Asked Loki quietly, genuinely concerned and the younger hunter offered him a reassuring smile.

“Sorry,” he murmured, focusing on the TV again. Loki frowned at him a moment longer before shaking his head and shifting his attention to the movie.

A little after one a.m., the movie finished and Sam stretched and turned to his brother to announce he was heading off to bed.

An amused grin slipped over his features when he saw Castiel and Dean already asleep, Dean’s head propped on the angel’s shoulder as Castiel’s wing curled protectively around Dean. 

Loki huffed out a soft laugh. “Aww,” he whispered to Sam. “Should we wake them?” He poised to click.

Sam shook his head. “Leave them. Let them feel awkward in the morning.”

Loki’s eyes sparkled in amusement as he grinned at Sam. Suddenly, Dean made a soft noise of discomfort and frowned in his sleep. He nuzzled into Castiel’s neck and slung an arm around his stomach before settling down once more. 

Loki bit back a laugh. “Do you think he’s having a sex dream?”

Sam stamped down on a snort. “Castiel better hope not.”

He slid his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of the pair, making Loki beam. 

“Send me a copy,” the trickster whispered. “I want blackmail material on Cas.”

“I’m going to wallpaper Dean’s door with fifty copies,” winked Sam and Loki snorted out a laugh, making the sleeping pair frown and lean further into each other. 

“Come on. Let’s go to bed,” smirked Sam and Loki padded after him with a grin.

 

* * *

 

“So… creepy abandoned mansion with rotting wooden walls and broken windows,” drawled Dean as they parked up outside the secluded manor house. There were no houses within half a mile of this one, but residents of the closest farming village had reported livestock going missing and they suspected it had something to do with the old, abandoned manor house down the road.

“What are we guessing, guys?” Dean asked. “Think I’m gonna go for ghoul.”

“I second that,” piped up Loki.

“Could be some wild animals have made a home in there,” shrugged Sam. “Foxes, badgers, birds of prey. They all feed on livestock. Doesn’t have to be any supernatural creatures involved.”

Castiel nodded. “There may be wild werewolves or wendigos involved. If food is scarce they may migrate to the outskirts of civilisation.”

Dean opened the car door. “Only one way to find out.” 

They crowded around the back of the Impala as Dean opened the boot. He handed out both silver and salt rounds as well as silver and iron blades. 

“Alright, let’s split up and look for clues, gang,” grinned Dean, making Sam and Castiel roll their eyes and Loki chuckle.

They entered the house and listened for any unusual sounds or signs of movement that indicated there may be another being present. They explored the bottom floor slowly, silently, using hand gestures to communicate and after five minutes of searching, there was a creak from upstairs and a soft whimper.

They immediately headed towards the stairs and a quiet moan floated down to them, pained and scared. They determined the source was the third floor and they readied their weapons as they spread out.

This floor was dark and dirty like the rest of the house. The rooms were layered with years’ worth of dust and the walls were decaying and crumbling. The lights were old and broken and even if they were new, they wouldn’t have worked because the house’s power lines were cut and the water shut off.

Various species of spider had made a permanent home in the house and the walls and door-less doorways were littered with webs and dead insects.

Dean frowned when his foot caught in something sticky and he looked down to find a patch of dried blood beneath his shoe. There was a trail of it; dark splotches dotting the floor of what was once a large bedroom. 

Dean tightened his grip on his gun and followed the trail towards what appeared to be a walk-in wardrobe. Just as he reached the doors, he heard a wet cough and a quiet groan coming from inside. He steadied his breathing and reached out to open a door.

There was a snarl and suddenly, Dean was on his side, something clawing at him viciously as it pinned him to the floor. It was heavy and its hand were cold and Dean kicked at it powerfully until it loosened its grip. He turned just in time to see two pearly white fangs and a fierce blue gaze before the creature was on him again, trying its best to rip out his throat.

He wrestled with the vampire for a moment, grunting with the effort of trying to keep the beast away from his face, before Castiel rushed in and sent the vampire flying into a wall with a mere flick of his wrist.

Castiel’s collar buzzed, making the angel wince and Dean’s mouth tugged downwards. There was nothing they could do to fix the programming of the collar when it came to hormones. A certain level or combination of ‘fight or flight’ hormones would activate any collar.

“Are you unharmed?” Asked Castiel as he helped Dean to his feet, readying one of his borrowed blades in case the vampire decided to attempt another round.

Dean nodded and glanced to the wardrobe. He flung the doors open, ignoring the vampire’s warning hiss, and froze at the sight of a woman propped up against the back wall. She, too, had two fangs, but her skin was paler than it should have been, slicked with sweat and covered in grime. Her eyes were half-lidded and her gaze unseeing, brown hair matted with filth. Her clothes were traditional; made of cow hide and other raw materials indicative of a monster who lived in the wild. They were bloodied on her left side; a dark patch beneath her ribs that looked at least a week old.

Neither vampire was collared.

“Leave her alone,” growled the male vampire as he tried to push himself away from the wall, but Castiel raised his hand and pinned the vampire there so he was unable to move an inch.

Dean looked over the woman carefully. She was barely breathing. 

“Please, leave her in peace,” begged the male vampire. “She hasn’t got long left.”

Dean stepped out of the wardrobe and glanced at the defeated male. His gaze was hollow.

“What’s your name?” He asked the vampire and the creature frowned at Dean distrustingly.

“Benny.”

Dean nodded. “And hers?”

“…Andrea.” His voice broke as he said it.

Dean glanced at Benny’s bare neck. “You’re not from around these parts, are you?”

Benny shook his head slowly. “Please, we mean humans no harm. We’ve not hurt anybody. My wife, she…” He trailed off, unable to finish.

“She’s sick,” Dean finished, just as Sam and Loki sprinted into the room. They glanced between Benny and the ill Andrea before frowning at Dean in confusion.

Benny eyed them warily before nodding. Dean tilted his head. “What happened?”

Benny blinked when Castiel’s invisible hold on him loosened and he was able to push away from the wall. He glanced around the four men suspiciously before straightening.

“We were hunting for our next meal in the forest. Any animal will do but deer are biggest and therefore have more blood. Next thing I know, Andrea’s on the floor, clutching her side, blood trickling between her fingers. I heard the humans coming then and Andrea was already unconscious. Bullet coated with dead man’s blood. 

“I managed to hide us both and the humans ran past, but Andrea didn’t look too good when she woke. I think the dead man’s blood was infected with something and it’s poisoned her. I brought her here because the nest kicked us out. They don’t want any weak links and they were frightened Andrea would infect the entire nest. I’ve stolen a couple of sheep and a cow from local farms, just to make her stronger, but…” He shook his head, clearly upset. “It’s not working. We’re not built to run off animal blood and our healing abilities are slow and inefficient when we drink from them.”

Andrea groaned softly and Benny winced. “She can barely hear me now. I don’t think she knows who I am anymore.”

Dean frowned and flicked his gaze to the female vampire before sizing up Benny once more. He looked exhausted, both emotionally and physically. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his face looked haggard and hopeless. His body was scraped and bruised, presumably from slipping under fences and being kicked by livestock (and maybe even beaten by farmers?) and it was obvious he was on the verge of a breakdown.

Those humans Benny had spoken about… they were probably the hunting unit searching for more wild monsters to collar. Wild monsters were a danger to civilisation and by law, had to be brought in for collaring. It was illegal for monsters to live unsupervised and without any form of restraints.

…Except Benny and Andrea (his wife? Mate? Girlfriend?) hadn’t been doing anything wrong. They had been avoiding humans and hunting animals despite knowing it would hamper their abilities. They had been quite happy keeping to themselves, living their own lives and looking out for the nest and now their family had kicked them out and Andrea was dying all because of human interference. 

Collared vampires were given human blood packets to drink from, ensuring they kept up their strength. At one time, Dean would have said all vampires should jump at the chance to be collared. Afterall, they get good nutrition and don’t have to bother hunting and it was more than they deserved after what a nest of them had done to his father.

Now though, after glimpsing into how monsters were treated by humans, how they were humiliated and beaten and abused in what was supposed to be their home, Dean understood why Benny and Andrea had gone vegetarian instead of donning a collar. 

Andrea’s breathing pattern changed and Benny glanced over to the wardrobe anxiously.

“Please, help her,” Benny begged desperately, at the end of his tether. He had no options left and he believed he was about to be taken in for collaring anyway, so he might as well plead with the species who had caused his partner so much harm to help her.

Castiel glided over to her, crouching by her side. He placed a palm over her sweaty forehead and closed his eyes, concentrating on the damage done to Andrea’s body. After a few moments, he stood and shook his head apologetically. 

“The poison has affected every part of her body. Her DNA is changing so her own blood is slowly killing her. I can’t alter DNA,” he murmured.

Dean’s eyes widened. He had heard of a dart that caused altered DNA. Vamptonite darts could be used against a few creatures such as ghouls, shapeshifters and werewolves, but the product was discontinued after three months of production. The darts were supposed to alter the DNA enough to turn these creatures human and it worked temporarily, reducing these monsters’ abilities and senses until they were practically human, but after a few weeks, the changed monsters began dropping like flies and it had been found the DNA altered so much that their own blood became acidic to them, burning them from the inside out. The darts were quickly made illegal and they were taken off public shelves.

Apparently, some people had retained these darts, turning them into bullets despite knowing the harm they did.

Dean swallowed thickly. That meant Andrea and Benny weren’t targets for collaring; they had been hunted for fun. Whoever had chased them had been aiming to kill them slowly and in the most painful way possible, by boiling their insides until their skin practically melted from their body.

No wonder Andrea couldn’t heal herself. Not only were her powers suppressed, her own blood was trying to kill her.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair. No one could fix this. There was no cure.

“I… I can’t,” whispered Dean, suddenly feeling too warm. “There’s no cure for this.” He wanted to claw his own skin off. 

What kind of evil, twisted parasite would do this to another life?

Benny’s face fell for a moment before it quickly hardened and no one had time to react as the vampire sped towards Dean and punched him in the mouth, knocking him to the floor. Benny leapt on top of Dean and threw his fists at his face over and over as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Help my wife, you bastard!” Snarled Benny and Dean pulled his arms over his face to protect himself. He refused to fight back though. Refused to hurt Benny any more than he already was.

Castiel grabbed the vampire by the collar and slapped a pair of cuffs on him, forcing him to his knees.

Benny finally broke down, his tears creating a small puddle on the filthy floor as he bowed his head in defeat.

“There’s nothing we can do,” whispered Dean, his vision blurry and face swollen. “I’m so sorry. There’s no cure for vamptonite bullets. We can’t… we can’t help her.”

Benny slumped, shoulders shaking with his wrecked sobs.

“We never bothered anyone!” He hissed through his tears. “We never did anything wrong. Why did you do this? Why are you so intent on hurting us? On making our lives Hell?”

Dean shook his head. His stomach rolled and bile crept up his throat before he swallowed it back down again. How could humans do something like this? Why wasn’t the government addressing this? Why weren’t the people speaking out against this cruelty?

Maybe they were and the majority ignored them. Dean certainly had before he’d met Castiel and Loki.

“I’m sorry,” murmured Dean, because what else could he say?

Benny spat at him.

There were a few moments of tense silence before Sam finally piped up.

“She’s suffering. It’s only going to get worse,” he said quietly.

Benny flinched and Dean closed his eyes briefly before gesturing to the wardrobe.

Sam gulped and pulled out his knife as he made his way over.

There was a wet noise and a soft _thud_ and Sam returned with a bloodied knife and a pale face. He looked like he would be needing a bucket very soon.

“I hope you all burn in death,” whispered Benny darkly.

Loki shuffled over to Dean and reached out to heal him as Castiel pulled the vampire to his feet, but Dean gently pushed the trickster away, shaking his head. Loki paused, frowning in confusion as the battered Dean climbed to his feet. 

“Uncuff him, Cas,” Dean said softly and Castiel blinked in surprise before cautiously removing Benny’s restraints.

“I think we’ve ruined enough of your life,” murmured Dean, unable to look at either Benny or the wardrobe. “Go back to your nest. With any luck, they’ll take you back.”

Benny gazed at Dean in confusion. “…Aren’t you supposed to bring me in for collaring?”

Dean nodded and finally looked up. “We’ve already taken your wife. We don’t want to take your freedom too.”

Benny blinked, shocked and he glanced around the four men with a frown.

“…You’re not like the other hunters,” he said finally.

Just as Dean was about to shake his head and state they were _exactly_ like other hunters, Loki cut in.

“No. They’re not. They want to help us, not hurt us. They’re fair and kind and trust me, if there was even the slightest chance they could have saved your wife, they would have, no matter the cost. Unfortunately, vamptonite poisoning is something none of us can cure, not even an archangel.”

Castiel glanced sharply at Loki and the trickster met his gaze for a moment before turning his attention to Benny once more. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We all are.”

Dean watched the small exchange in confusion. What an odd choice of wording on Loki’s part. Castiel was a seraph, not an archangel. He quickly dismissed the slip in favour of watching Benny’s reaction.

Benny glanced between both seraph and trickster for a moment before nodding tightly. “If you say so.” His gaze darted to the door. “Am I free to go?”

He raised an eyebrow as Dean began rolling his sleeve up. 

“Not quite,” the older Winchester said. He stepped over to Benny and offered his arm. “You look like you could use some quick healing right now,” he murmured.

Benny’s eyes widened as he stared at Dean in bewilderment. After a few seconds, Benny licked his lips.

“…That’s mighty kind of you.”

Dean managed a weak smile. “Just… don’t drink me dry, okay?”

Benny eyed up his arm before flicking his gaze back to his face. “What’s your name?”

“Dean. Dean Winchester. That’s my brother Sam and our friends, Castiel and Loki,” he said, gesturing to each man in turn.

Benny’s lips quirked upwards slightly. “Your _‘friends’_?”

Dean nodded.

The vampire’s gaze softened and he said nothing more as he ducked his head and sunk his fangs into Dean’s skin. Dean flinched and steadied his breathing, refusing to look at his arm.

After a few moments, just as Dean was starting to feel a little light-headed, Benny pulled away and licked his lips again.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely and already, Dean could see some of his bruises beginning to fade. 

Benny glanced at the wardrobe with a pained expression before bowing his head slightly and racing out of the room, leaving the others to stare after him sadly.

Dean startled when Castiel crept up behind him and healed his injuries as well as his dizziness. He whirled around to frown at the angel, only to be met with a stern blue gaze.

“Don’t punish yourself for other people’s mistakes,” he stated knowingly and Dean glanced away.

“Why don’t you go back to the car, Dean?” Sam suggested. “Loki and I can clean this up.” It was clear the case had affected Dean more than he was willing to admit and Sam wasn’t about to stand by and let his brother suffer. He glanced at Castiel. “Keep an eye on him, yeah?” Castiel was quiet and patient and he would take care of Dean.

The angel nodded and gently led Dean out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Saturday evening, a few days later, saw the four settling down for movie night again. Dean’s outlook on human relationships with monsters had changed drastically and so had Sam’s. 

For the first time ever, Castiel and Loki felt like they were treated with the same respect and consideration as any human, despite having to wear the collars. They couldn’t blame the Winchesters for that though; it was illegal to remove the collars permanently.

For the first time ever, Castiel and Loki had a home.

Dean had conveniently plopped himslef beside Loki tonight and the trickster had no doubts it was more about the bowl of cheesy nachos he’d snapped up earlier than it was about his wonderful company. He didn’t mind though. It meant he got to pull faces at Sam on the other couch until the hunter threw a Twix bar at him – part of the stash from under his bed.

Castiel was tired tonight. Victor had demanded he help heal an accident involving a lorry, four cars and six pedestrians. There had been no monsters involved, but the paramedics hadn’t been able to get to them in time because of some roadworks. He had been the only angel at the scene and healing twenty people who were either bleeding, unconscious or nearly dead (in the case of the family whose car had been crushed by the overturned lorry) had taken a toll on him.

He leaned into Sam’s side and closed his eyes, letting the opening theme of _‘Deadpool’_ drift over his head as the younger hunter stroked his wing lightly. Sam glanced down at him concernedly but a reassuring smile from Loki put him at ease. Castiel was just exhausted. He needed rest.

He returned his gaze to the screen, missing Dean’s worried glance towards the angel.

Forty minutes in and Castiel was asleep on Sam’s shoulder, wing leaning into Sam’s warm hand. Dean and Loki had arranged themselves so that Loki’s feet were in Dean’s lap and the never-ending bowl of nachos was perched on the trickster’s stomach so they both had access to it. 

Suddenly, Castiel’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright, scrabbling frantically at his neck. Sam startled as Loki and Dean whipped around to face the angel, then Castiel began tugging desperately at the collar, eyes wild and teeth grating together.

The others stared at him, stunned for a few seconds before the angel opened his mouth in an agonised scream.

Without thinking, Sam shot forwards and tugged at the collar, only to have his fingers practically melted from the powerful shock.

He yelped and recoiled, quickly realising the collar was pumping out a much higher voltage than normal. 

Castiel’s skin began to sizzle and the angel’s screams became sobs of torture as he collapsed against the couch, still wrestling with his collar.

Confused and panicked, Sam patted himself down and realised his deactivator was upstairs. He sprung off the couch as Loki and Dean raced to Castiel’s aid with wide eyes and climbed the steps three at a time. He snatched the deactivator from his drawer and bounded down the stairs again, the angel’s serial code already half entered by the time he reached the living room. He pressed the deactivate button and Castiel threw the collar to the other side of the room, breaths laboured and wings flapping, feathers everywhere. When he finally removed his sweaty hand from his neck, the Winchesters gasped at the huge wound underneath. 

The skin was half-melted, revealing the tissue and muscle beneath and blood soaked his clothes, staining it dark and ruined. What skin hadn’t melted was severely burned and, in some parts, blackened. The rest of his body steamed lightly, from where holy oil had been dumped into his bloodstream and Castiel whimpered, muscles tense as he squeezed his eyes shut against the pure agony.

Loki pounced on the angel immediately, healing all he could as he cursed and snarled at the holy oil poisoning he couldn’t fix. They’d have to wait for that to be flushed from his system naturally.

Loki already had a bucket snapped up when Castiel suddenly jerked forwards and emptied his stomach.

The angel slumped back against the couch, dripping with sweat as he trembled.

Sam stared at the angel with a gaping mouth and horrified eyes. He slowly turned to Loki, tongue paralysed. 

“Malfunctioning collar,” said Loki blandly. “Apparently, he needs a new one.”

Sam’s eyes widened even further. “Do you seriously think I’m going to put him in another one of those… torture devices after that?” He breathed.

Loki frowned. “It’s law.”

“Screw the law,” snarled Dean as he snatched up Sam’s discarded deactivator and entered Loki’s serial code. The collar beeped and clicked and Dean hurled it across the room.

Loki stared at the collars in disbelief before turning his gaze to a furious Dean.

“Is that what they do to you when they shock you?” Asked Sam in horror as he brushed his fingers over Castiel’s newly healed neck, as though he needed to convince himself the damage truly was gone.

“Maybe not quite enough for our skin to actually melt, but definitely enough to roast and scar it. I suppose monsters without healing powers eventually will have their skin thinned until it’s broken or burned off.” Loki tilted his head at the Winchesters’ disturbed expressions. “Why do you think we’re so desperate to get them off?”

Dean’s eyes rounded. “When you first came here… when your collar kept activating…” He glanced at Castiel’s neck and paled.

“Yeah, there’s a reason I was so determined to steal your deactivators,” murmured Loki, surprised. He hadn’t realised the Winchesters genuinely didn’t know how much harm the collars caused.

Dean’s head fell into his hands as he cursed angrily. “No wonder you tried to stab me.”

Sam was busy checking Castiel’s pulse and fussing over his neck. He even arranged the angel’s wings into a more comfortable position. Castiel squeezed Sam’s arm gently in reassurance.

“I’m alright, Sam,” he croaked. “I just need rest.”

Sam shook his head frantically. “You’re not alright! That thing nearly killed you and I had no idea it did that much damage and that time I actually activated the collar manually when you tried to escape and I’m so sorry, Cas, I’m so sorry I did that because- ”

“Sam,” whispered Castiel, cutting off his babbling.

The younger hunter suddenly crushed Castiel into a hug and buried his face into the angel’s neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Castiel relaxed into Sam’s protective hold and closed his eyes, resting against his chest as he curled his wings around the hunter. In under a minute, he was asleep.

Sam blinked down at the dozing angel in surprise and shifted until Castiel could stretch out over the couch, his head pillowed in Sam’s lap. With a worried gaze, Sam stroked the angel’s wings, observing his face for any signs of discomfort.

Loki and Dean watched in silence before the trickster slowly turned to face his owner.

“When you’re in the house, the collar stays off,” growled Dean, looking livid. “When we go out, the collar stays deactivated and no one will know the difference. You’ll never wear a functioning collar again, I promise.”

Loki blinked at Dean before glancing at the worried Sam, who was now carding his fingers through Castiel’s feathers.

“My real name is Gabriel,” he admitted softly, out of nowhere.

Sam and Dean snapped their gazes to him.

“Loki’s just a cover name I use to stop certain people from locating me. Gabriel is the name I was born with.” 

He’d never told anyone this before.

Dean and Sam shared a stunned glance before returning their gazes to the nervous trickster.

“…Would you still like us to call you Loki when we’re out of the house?” Asked Sam.

Gabriel smiled up at him gratefully. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting from them, but the easy acceptance made him happy. He could trust the Winchesters with this; this thing he'd been keeping secret for so long.

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Okay, Gabriel,” nodded Sam before shifting his focus to Castiel once more.

Dean eyed him thoughtfully. “Does Cas know your real name?”

“Cas knows pretty much everything about me,” said Gabriel and Dean hummed in acknowledgement. 

“You’ll have to tell us that story one day,” he murmured before glancing over at the sleeping Castiel.

Gabriel smiled fondly and wriggled until he was leaning against Dean’s side, much in the same way Castiel had been with Sam earlier.

Dean smiled in amusement and wrapped a protective arm around him as Gabriel dropped his head onto the hunter’s shoulder and closed his eyes. A home without collars, huh?

“Maybe one day I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because slow burn romantic relationships are awesome, but friendships are just as important ;)
> 
> Also... definitely going to be more than 12 chapters. More like... 17? Maybe?


	9. Chapter 9

Victor eyed the angel and trickster suspiciously. Something was different about them. Something was… off.

“Everything alright with you four?” Asked Victor cautiously, glancing at Sam and Dean pointedly.

Dean shrugged. “As right as it can be. What’s the case?”

Victor held on to the case file a little longer than necessary as he scrutinised the two monsters in the office. The trickster smirked challengingly at him and he narrowed his eyes and handed over the file to Sam.

“Couple of ghosts. Typical salt and burn case. Probably won’t need your pets on this one.” He didn’t trust those monsters around his best hunters.

Dean quirked a smile. “Well, we’ll take ‘em for moral support,” he winked. Both monsters bit back smirks of amusement. Victor scowled.

“Don’t let them interfere,” he huffed and Sam and Dean shared a secretive glance that he didn’t like one bit. “Wouldn’t like to think your decisions are being influenced by them, as some recent complaints against you two have suggested,” he said sternly.

Here, both Winchesters grimaced. They’d never had complaints until recently, but Victor couldn’t deny that Sam and Dean’s reports on the latest cases had him questioning the validity of those complaints. He wasn’t ignorant enough to believe the monsters were always at fault and he wasn’t stupid enough to believe that all humans treated their monsters with respect and kindness. However, just because he didn’t believe these things, didn’t mean he had to like monsters in his station.

Sam and Dean were the best hunters in the station and he stood by that. If anything, these past few months had shown him their detective skills were developing quite nicely too.

“Is that all?” Sam asked, glancing through the notes. Victor nodded and the Winchesters turned towards the door, their pets following close behind.

“Oh, and boys?” Victor called just before they left.

The Winchesters glanced at him curiously.

“Your work these past few months has been phenomenal. Keep it up.” He offered them a small smile and both Winchesters grinned and saluted him before leading their monsters out of the station.

 

* * *

 

“Well… this is a first,” snickered Dean. “A haunted trailer park. Definitely a new one.”

“Apparently, the park used to be a small hospital, which was demolished and moved further into the city to handle more patients. They landscaped the park and designed it for caravans and mobile homes to set up here temporarily,” commented Sam, flicking through the file.

“So, what are we thinking? Couple of spirits weren’t too happy the hospital moved so they stayed here?” Asked Dean. Sam shrugged.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘landscaping’,” frowned Gabriel as he glanced around the overgrown weeds and dead grass. The brown plants fit in well with the rusty caravans and mouldy mobile homes.

“Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities,” teased Sam. “Would you rather we investigate a haunted palace?”

Gabriel perked up. “Yes. Is there a haunted palace? Preferably with a bejewelled throne?”

Sam shook his head and made his way into the park. “If you’re lucky, maybe one day _Caesars Palace_ will have a murder.”

Gabriel grinned. “We could salt and burn the body in the morning and finish the afternoon off with a game of poker or ten.”

“A trickster in a casino,” hummed Dean thoughtfully. “I wonder how long it would take them to throw you out?”

“Considering non-humans aren’t allowed in casinos, I’m guessing he wouldn’t even make it through the door,” snorted Sam.

“Don’t underestimate me, kiddo,” winked Gabriel. “I won quite a bit of money for my fifth master last time we visited Vegas. Security were a while catching on.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Wait, didn’t they look for your collar?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Teleportation, remember? They installed a few dozen more cameras when they found me.” He grinned, eyes sparkling mischievously as though the memory made him happy.

“I feel like you enjoy being a pain in the ass to every new person you meet,” hummed Sam and Gabriel chuckled.

“Did the trying to stab Dean thing give it away?”

“More like the replacing Dean’s shampoo with blue hair dye thing,” grinned Sam as Dean’s frown grew progressively deeper.

“My personal favourite was changing Dean’s Mississippi mud pie to a pie made out of actual mud from Mississippi,” snickered Gabriel.

“Yeah, you’re still not forgiven for that,” groused Dean.

“I don’t know,” drawled Sam. “Replacing all Dean’s Led Zeppelin tapes with various covers of Miley Cyrus’ _‘Wrecking Ball’_ is in my top three.”

“Do you just not like me or something?” Huffed Dean. “How come you never prank Sam or Cas? Why is it always me who suffers?”

Gabriel laughed warmly. “Because Cas never gets the joke so there’s no point in pranking him and I like Sam. Sam shares his Twix bars with me.”

“Never shares his Twix with me,” grumbled Dean making Sam smile.

“That’s because you hog all the pies.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Cas doesn’t mind you tagging along,” winked Gabriel and Dean huffed petulantly.

“I should’ve adopted Cas. At least he’s nice to me.”

“Told you you wouldn’t be able to handle me,” smirked Gabriel. “I said that when we first met.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that difficult to train,” teased Dean before lowering his voice. “I can even take you out off a collar now,” he winked.

Gabriel grinned, fingering his deactivated collar. He and Castiel had snapped their collars on before heading out and no sooner had the collars rebooted, did Sam and Dean deactivate them once more. Now, the collars were unlocked at the back and with a bit of pulling, would come free. As it was, the four wanted the collars to remain around Castiel and Gabriel’s necks so long as they weren’t functioning. To anyone who glanced at them, the collars appeared locked and working, meaning Gabriel and Castiel wouldn’t get into trouble and Sam and Dean wouldn’t be jailed.

“Alright so, the file says the ghosts are a husband and wife duo. Had an accident to do with a horse and carriage, died in the hospital and the family reported all the couple’s jewellery and money they had on them that day went missing.” Sam cocked an eyebrow. “Hospital staff took it, maybe? I suppose that could explain why they remained here. Unfinished business and all that.”

Dean nodded. “And when the hospital moved, they had no chance of returning their belongings to the family, so they got angry and started terrorising the park visitors.”

“Sounds plausible,” hummed Sam. “Now we’ve got to find the piece of DNA that’s tying them here.”

“That could be anything and anywhere,” groaned Dean.

“Well, we’d better start searching before we lose the light,” said Sam, glancing up at the sunset.

There were only a few vehicles on the park; most visitors presumably scared off by the spirits. Those that remained were older people hardened to the world and life on the road. One caravan looked like it hadn’t moved in over thirty years. In fact, it was missing a wheel.

“The notes say the bodies were buried in Idaho over ninety years ago,” murmured Castiel as he glanced at the file. “It’s unlikely we’re searching for bones or hair.”

Gabriel frowned. “Well, if the bodies were buried in a different state, what could be tying them here?”

“The jewellery.” Sam blinked in realisation. “Whoever stole it must have left it here. Maybe they buried it or hid it somewhere for safekeeping and never got a chance to retrieve it.”

“Great, so what are supposed to do? Dig up the entire trailer park?” Scowled Dean.

“Questioning the park residents may be a logical start,” commented Castiel as he tilted his head and squinted at a middle-aged woman who had just vacated her mobile home; an ornate golden necklace dangling low on her chest, littered with small chunks of rubies and emeralds.

The others stared at the woman as she spat on the dead grass and took a long drag from her cigarette, a hacking cough erupting from her chest a moment later.

Sam and Dean shared a glance before making a beeline for the woman, Castiel and Gabriel trotting after them.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” began Dean as they approached the large woman. She wore a pink vest and a pair of worn, purple leggings that were a size too small and she scowled at the four as they came to a halt in front of her, glancing over them as though they were beneath her.

“What do you want?” She snorted, unimpressed by Sam and Dean’s uniforms. “I ain’t done nothin’ illegal these past couple months an’ I’d appreciate y’all quit sendin’ these so-called ‘Officers’ to harass me.” She glowered at the Winchesters before turning her nose up in disgust at Castiel and Gabriel. “Ain’t y’all supposed to keep mutts on a chain in this park?”

Dean’s patience for the woman suddenly vanished and if Sam’s cold glare was anything to go by, he’d decided he had no time for the woman either.

Gabriel and Castiel remained obediently quiet and for once, Dean wished the pair would show off their unrestrained powers and demand some respect.

“Please refrain from degrading our colleagues,” said Dean icily. “We’re here to ask you some questions about the ghosts that haunt the area.”

An odd look passed over the woman’s face before she snorted ineloquently and crossed her arms.

“Couple of dead snobs from nearly a century ago. What more do ya need to know?” She looked ready to retreat inside her mobile home so Dean decided to get straight to the point. No need to beat around the bush with this lady.

“Well, we would like to know how a gal like you can afford a golden necklace encrusted with rubies and emeralds such as the one you are wearing,” he smirked sharply and Sam and Castiel both shot him a bitchface as Gabriel snapped up a lollipop with a wide grin, waiting for the drama to unfold.

The woman’s eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for breath, before she scowled furiously.

 _“How dare you!”_ She growled. “Not that it’s any of your business, but this here necklace was a family heirloom. If that’s all, you folks better leave before I set my dogs on ya.”

“A family heirloom?” Snorted Dean. “So, not something you stumbled across in the park? Something you found? Something you stole from two very angry spirits?”

“Dean,” Sam hissed. Dean ignored him.

The woman clenched her fists. “You’d better be getting on outta here right now or I’ll set my Rotties on you. They like human blood.” She eyed Castiel distastefully. “Angel blood even better.”

Sam glared at Dean heatedly.

“Alright, we’ll go,” shrugged Dean nonchalantly. “Hope that necklace really is yours because if these spirits get angry enough to kill someone and that jewellery is theirs? Their death will be on your hands. You’ll practically be a murderer.” He grinned at the woman. “But what are the chances of that, huh? It’s not like the ghosts have already hospitalised someone. Nah. More like three people. And a witch. Broke seventeen bones altogether and made the witch haemorrhage.” He shuddered. “Horrid stuff. But hey, it’s okay. I’m sure it won’t ever happen again.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and whirled around, heading back the way they’d come. “Enjoy your day, Ma’am. I’m sure Roger, David, Marie and Yianna will get out of the hospital soon. Let’s just hope Marie doesn’t lose that leg, right?” He whistled cheerily as Sam, Castiel and Gabriel trailed after him warily.

He waited all of seven seconds before:

_“Officer, wait!”_

Dean chuckled to himself and turned around with a confused expression.

“Yes, Ma’am? Is something wrong?”

The woman pursed her lips, contemplating her next move before she slowly approached Dean and unclasped the necklace.

“I did find it,” she confessed. “In a tin box buried under that there oak tree.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and took the offered necklace. “Really?” He deadpanned. “Never would’ve guessed.”

She shot him a filthy glare. “I liked it,” she defended half-heartedly.

Dean sent her a sarcastic smile as she huffed and marched back to her mobile home and slammed the door.

“Well, that was easy,” grinned Dean, inspecting the necklace appreciatively. It felt very expensive and like something he would never be able to afford in his entire lifetime. It was a shame they had to incinerate it.

Sam rolled his eyes. “No one’s been hospitalised,” he grumbled.

“Nothing wrong with a couple of white lies if they get the job done,” winked Dean. “C’mon, let’s light this baby up and get home for dinner.” He tossed the necklace in the air and caught it with the same hand.

“Um… I don’t think we’ll be going home any time soon,” muttered Gabriel as his gaze caught on another woman in her thirties wearing two long, diamond-encrusted earrings and a matching bracelet. Her husband swigged a can of beer as his fingers glinted with golden rings, set with various colourful precious stones.

Sam and Dean stared at the couple before noticing the vulgar rings on another lady’s fingers; at least sixty years old. Her husband wore a diamond-encrusted pocket watch which he made sure to keep checking every five minutes to watch the stones glisten under the sunlight.

Sam and Dean sagged.

“You had to open your fat mouth,” huffed Sam.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure we’ve got it all?” Asked Sam irritably as he rechecked the clump of jewellery he was carrying. It was pitch black outside, the stars covered by clouds and the park’s few lamps were either broken or flickering pathetically.

“Well, we’ve questioned everybody and got something off all of them. Not sure what else there could be,” grumbled Dean.

They wandered to the outskirts of the park and dumped the jewellery on the brown grass as Gabriel snapped up a bottle of cooking oil. Sam took it gratefully and emptied the entire bottle over the gold as Dean pulled a box of matches from his pocket and lit one. He was just about to throw it onto the fire when Castiel suddenly fanned his wings wide in alarm.

“DEAN!”

The older hunter was thrown ten feet to his left, his back hitting the floor harshly and the match tumbling out of his hand and extinguishing itself.

He shook his head and groaned but before he could stand up, a cold hand wrapped around his throat.

His eyes flew open and he was greeted with the sight of a partially transparent woman dressed in a long, elegant gown clearly derived from the 1900’s. She was entirely white with a bluish glow whenever the flickering lamps illuminated her and her expression was frozen into one of pure fury. She clenched her hand around Dean’s neck and threw him another four feet.

Distantly, Dean could hear Sam fighting with the apparition’s husband.

Dean quickly checked his pockets for anything containing iron and when he came up with nothing, he cursed his forgetfulness and scrambled to his feet before the woman got a chance to hurl him around again.

The ghost screeched at him and he winced, ducking his head as his ears protested the piercing sound. He slipped out of her way when she charged at him.

He fumbled in his pocket for another match before running towards the pile of gold. A hand clawed at his arm and he hissed in pain, dropping the match once more. He was dragged away from the gold with an angry scream from the irate ghost and in a vain attempt at breaking free, he threw his fist at the ghost’s face, only for it to pass straight through.

The ghost smirked briefly before slamming him into a tree.

He groaned and his eyes fluttered open just in time to see the ghost of the husband stamp a foot on Sam’s throat, pinning him to the floor with a snarl.

Dean pushed himself away from the tree and staggered to his feet, determined to help his brother, but the female ghost grabbed his neck and shoved him against the tree, dangling him two feet off the ground.

Dean choked and scrabbled at her hand, dismayed when he passed right through her.

She smirked and plunged her free fist into his chest, squeezing at his heart.

Less than a second later, an orange light burned in her eyes and her body burst into flames as she screamed in terror. She quickly dropped Dean and glanced over herself as she began to smoke and crackle and, in a moment, she had vanished; burned away without a single spot of ash to even mark she had been present in the first place.

In her place stood Castiel, eyes glowing a bright blue and hand outstretched; a white-blue light radiating from it dimly. His glow faded and he frowned at Dean concernedly.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly and Dean stared up at him in awe for a few seconds before nodding.

He climbed to his feet and gazed at the angel. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Our abilities are rather extensive when we don’t have a collar restricting us.” Castiel stretched his wings out and Dean’s gaze tracked every muscle movement. He wondered what those feathers felt like beneath his fingers. So far, only Sam had touched them and considering he was Castiel’s owner, that was to be expected.

Dean frowned. Gabriel and Castiel weren’t their pets. They were their friends.

“That’s pretty awesome,” he grinned and Castiel smiled almost shyly in return.

There was another haunting scream and Dean and Castiel whipped their heads around to find Gabriel in a similar pose to Castiel, eyes glowing golden and hand radiating white-gold light as the second apparition burst into flames.

Sam covered his eyes until the flames and golden glow had faded and then the trickster pulled Sam to his feet with a worried frown.

Dean blinked in surprise. “You guys are really similar in a lot of your abilities,” commented Dean. “I wouldn’t have expected that from two entirely different beings from completely different religions.”

From the corner of his eye, he caught Castiel grimacing in what looked like… guilt?

“Do tricksters and angels usually share so many similarities?” Asked Dean carefully, frowning at the seraph’s reaction. Castiel rolled his shoulders and refused to meet his gaze.

Before Dean got a chance to question him further, Sam and Gabriel joined them.

“Did we ever tell you how amazing you two are? Please never stop tagging along on our hunts,” said Sam, glancing at Gabriel in wonder. The trickster smirked and snapped up a KitKat.

“You can tell us how amazing we are as much as you like,” he hummed. “We don’t mind.”

Sam grinned and glanced at Dean. His expression dimmed. “You okay, Dean?”

Dean snapped out of his musings and plastered on a smile. “Yeah. Cas saved my ass. Again.”

“We owe them like… five ass-savings now,” chuckled Sam.

“You cooking us dinner tonight would be a decent ‘thank you’,” grinned Gabriel as he munched on his chocolate.

Sam shook his head in amusement. “You sure you want burnt fish fingers and a side of soggy fries again?”

Gabriel grimaced. “Your brother can cook.” He jabbed a finger at the younger hunter. “You can bake dessert. I’m feeling blueberry pie. What about you, Cas?”

Castiel remained quiet, knowing the trickster would continue in a second anyway.

As expected, Gabriel quickly clasped his hands together with a smile, the KitKat eaten and the paper vanishing.

“Great. Blueberry pie it is! Come on, Moose, let’s get home.”

He grabbed Sam’s hand and dragged him towards the car, Sam chuckling to himself at the trickster’s antics as Dean and Castiel trailed behind. Dean glanced at Castiel suspiciously. The angel refused to look at him.

They left the park and were just hopping into the Impala when suddenly, Gabriel made a choking sound as he was dragged from his seat and shoved to the floor.

Sam, Dean and Castiel leapt out of the car, guns trained on Gabriel’s attacker as Castiel’s blade fell into his palm.

A fairly tall man in a black suit and black gloves had trapped Gabriel’s neck in what appeared to be a dog snare. Gabriel tugged desperately at the snare as the man snapped a shiny black collar around his neck; far more expensive looking than the regular off-the-shelf collar. As soon as it clicked into place around Gabriel’s neck, the trickster spasmed, body paralysed as wave after wave of electricity pumped through his body. His attacker whipped out what looked like an activator and when he flipped the little black device open, there was a silver button inside.

Just as he was about to press it, Sam ploughed into him. He didn’t know what it did or who this man was, but he did know Gabriel was in pain. He smashed his fist into the guy’s jaw and the man staggered, his grip on the snare loosening. Sam punched the guy in the stomach but the man quickly retaliated and yanked a small knife from his pocket, which he quickly slashed through Sam’s palm. Sam cursed and recoiled and the man kicked Sam’s legs until he stumbled.

Dean and Castiel closed in on the guy before he had a chance to stab Sam again and with a flick of his wrist, Castiel disarmed the attacker before Dean flattened him.

Sam scrambled to the still spasming Gabriel, freeing him of the snare before reaching for the collar. He yelped as his body was flooded with electricity and he wasted no time in picking Gabriel up and dumping him in the back seat.

Their deactivators were at home.

“Guys, get in!” He yelled frantically as he slammed the door on Gabriel and slid into the driver’s seat. Dean and Castiel immediately left the attacker on the floor and hopped into the car, Sam already skidding onto the road before they had a chance to close their doors.

They glanced in the rear-view mirror to find the suited attacker climbing to his feet and staring after them like a bad omen. Sam floored the gas.

 

* * *

 

They raced home and when they finally arrived twenty minutes later, Sam rushed upstairs to grab a deactivator, only to panic when he realised he had no idea what the serial code for the new collar was.

He flew downstairs and was on the verge of a breakdown at seeing Gabriel in so much agony that tears were streaming down his cheeks despite him being paralysed, but then Dean hurled a tiny black device at him and Sam caught it and stared at it in confusion.

It was the attacker’s activator.

He quickly looked up the serial number and entered it into the deactivator. Castiel snatched the collar off the trickster and pressed two fingers to his forehead, quickly healing him.

Gabriel sucked in air desperately before scrambling into the corner of the couch, eyes wild as he tried to make himself smaller. His gaze darted around frantically before he seemed to recognise where he was and he calmed when Castiel sat beside him.

“You’re safe, Gabriel,” Castiel whispered softly as Gabriel slumped into his side.

“Who was that asshole?” Growled Dean as Sam sagged slightly in relief.

Castiel smoothed a hand down the trickster’s back and Gabriel closed his eyes.

“We can look up who the collar is registered to and we can get him sentenced for assault,” said Sam determinedly. No one laid a hand on Gabriel or Castiel and got away with it. “He picked on the wrong trickster.”

“I’m not a trickster,” sighed Gabriel.

The Winchesters paused and Castiel glanced at Gabriel in alarm.

“Gabriel- ”

“No, Cas. They deserve to know.” He rolled his shoulders nervously. “We can trust them.”

Dean and Sam remained silent as they frowned at the pair in confusion. Finally, Gabriel looked up.

“That man was Arthur Ketch. He’s been hunting me down for years but he’s never been able to find me before. I guess it was just coincidence he spotted me earlier.” He frowned and shook his head. “I knew I should’ve changed my face.”

“The power demand for that would have been immense,” murmured Castiel. “Your collar wouldn’t have allowed you to.”

Sam and Dean blinked.

“Okay, what’s going on here?” Scowled Dean. “Who’s this Ketch guy? What do you mean you're not a trickster?”

“Ketch is human,” replied Gabriel quietly. “The kind of human that works for a special section of the government that deals with all the nasty monster-related stuff no one else wants to think about. Mainly, how to keep the monster populations from dying out.”

Dean frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it,” murmured Gabriel. “How can monsters reproduce if we’re collared all the time? We’re rarely allowed to mate; heck, some of us are lucky to have friends. It’s not like we’re constantly in contact with our own species unless we work jobs that are tailored towards a certain species. So how are new monsters born?”

Dean and Sam glanced at one another. They had never stopped to think about it before, but now Gabriel mentioned it, that was a fair point.

Castiel suddenly looked very angry, wings raising high and feathers puffing out. He didn’t say anything but Gabriel side-eyed him and reached out to pet a wing soothingly.

“To make new monsters, you have to breed them,” he continued. “Kind of like a farm or a zoo. Except the conditions are worse; they never see sunlight, they get fed grey slop once a day and they’re kept in a tiny cell all their ‘breeding lives’ and are then dumped in an adoption centre when they lose their usefulness. And that’s just the common monsters. The uncommon monsters have it much worse. Once their breeding life is up, they’re sold on for lab research or given to a zoo to live in a slightly bigger cage until they die. Sometimes, they’re not even that lucky.” He looked away.

Sam’s mouth drew into a thin line, disgusted by the very idea of treating another living being like that.

“And what? This Ketch guy wanted you for… breeding?”

Gabriel nodded and Dean scowled.

“What are you?”

Gabriel sighed softly and stood. He closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders, muttering a few foreign words under his breath and suddenly, six beautiful golden wings shimmered into existence, a halo glowing dimly above his head.

“I’m an archangel,” Gabriel said quietly as Dean and Sam scrambled backwards, eyes wide.

“We’re not… You’re not supposed to be here,” breathed Sam. “Archangels aren’t allowed to be adopted by the public. They’re supposed to be handed over to the government. You guys… you guys are so rare!”

“Aren’t there less than… seventy of you guys left in the world?” Dean whispered, stunned. “You’re a protected species!”

Gabriel’s wings flapped in distress as he held his hands up placatingly. “Please don’t call the Protection Agency!” He begged. “They’re not what you think they are. Ketch? He works for them. They don’t ‘protect’ us. They stick us in a breeding camp and force us to make new archangels. They keep us locked up for weeks at a time and when we’re finally allowed out of our tiny cells, they lock us up in another cell where they sometimes collect eggs or semen, other times they throw a male and a female together and force us to breed. If we refuse, they starve us. Sometimes they beat us. Most of the times they just turn the voltage up until we comply.” He glanced nervously at the discarded collar. “They keep us like that for years…”

“Until you lose your usefulness,” murmured Sam in horror.

Gabriel’s wings drooped. “Then we get sold to the highest bidder. That can be anything from a lab to an illegal monster fighting ring.”

Sam licked his dry lips. “Were you ever used as a breeder?”

Gabriel shook his head and Sam and Dean released breaths of relief.

“But my older brothers were. Cas and I were forced to watch.”

Dean and Sam’s gazes snapped to the archangel in mute horror. Castiel was trembling in anger now.

“You two are from a…” Dean trailed off, stomach queasy.

“Gabriel’s mother was captured from the wild and forced into a breeding facility,” Castiel growled. “She was bred with four separate male angels, giving her Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel.”

“My mother rather liked religious names,” murmured Gabriel sadly.

“They stayed with her for a little while as they weren’t old enough to breed. I was born in the facility and my mother died a week later from poor conditions. My father had already been sold to a lab for dissection. I wasn’t a rare species so I was to be killed and disposed of as no one wanted to waste time taking care of a week-old, orphaned seraph. Gabriel’s mother pleaded with the staff and they begrudgingly let her have me. She loved me as though I was her own son.” Castiel’s teeth ground together.

“She fell ill from the ghastly living conditions. The staff took her away and we never saw her again. Michael was the oldest and he did his best to protect us. The day he turned sixteen, staff moved him to the cell opposite ours and shoved a female archangel twenty years his elder in with him. They forced him to breed her and at first, he refused. He was starved, shocked hourly and after a few days they just walked in and began beating him with bars and bats until he gave in. Two years later, they took Lucifer and did the same to him. Another year later, they took Raph and he was only fifteen. They returned to us once they’d _‘performed their duty’_ but it broke them. They were horrified at what they’d done even though they’d had no choice and there were days they couldn’t stop crying.”

Sam felt sick. He swallowed the bile crawling up his throat and felt his knees beginning to weaken. Did humans really do this to monsters? To other living creatures?

“How did you escape?” He whispered.

“Another breeding facility was willing to pay good money for a new archangel,” said Gabriel quietly. “I was chosen because I’d never bred before. I was… clean.”

“He was twelve,” snarled Castiel.

“They said we were good breeding stock because our mother had produced so many archangels. We had a good blood line, apparently,” mumbled Gabriel. “I was separated from my brothers and loaded onto a truck. Back then, we didn’t have collars that could have their details changed with a little handheld device. The collar had to be physically removed and a new one registered to the new breeding facility had to be reattached. I should have been knocked out for the process, but the truckers were running late on another delivery and they thought I was too young to be any harm, so they cut a few corners and tried to collar me whilst I was still awake. The second they deactivated my old collar, I knocked them all out with my magic and fled.

“I knew I’d be captured and re-collared if I stayed in the city, but I couldn’t leave my brothers in that hellhole, so I hid myself as a trickster and planned ways of breaking my brothers out of the facility. Just like I’d feared, I was captured three weeks later but instead of snapping an archangel collar on me and sending me back to the breeding facility, the police fitted me with a less powerful trickster collar and carted me off to an adoption centre. I thought that my collar at least wouldn’t be able to kill me with a dose of holy oil and so long as I was out of the breeding facility, I had a chance of rescuing my brothers.”

Gabriel dropped his gaze, pained. “Unfortunately, my new owners weren’t exactly kind and at twelve, I hadn’t thought about the possibility of the shock voltage given to a trickster being far more powerful and painful than that given to most other monsters. I thought I’d been clever, but it turned out I’d just been naïve. I was no closer to rescuing my brothers than I had been in that cell with them.” His wings drooped further. “I’m still no closer to rescuing them.”

Castiel stood and wrapped a comforting wing around his adopted brother, carding his fingers through Gabriel’s largest left wing. Gabriel leaned into Castiel’s side.

“You have no idea how happy I was to see you guys had returned Cas to me. Even if I didn’t like you very much at the time.”

Sam and Dean were silent as they watched both angels comfort one another. Their silence was unnerving and eventually Gabriel turned to them with a worried gaze.

“Please don’t call the Protection Agency,” he said softly. “I don’t want to go back there.”

“Where’s the breeding centre?” Asked Dean gruffly.

Gabriel’s eyes widened in alarm and he took a step backwards as Castiel flared his wings threateningly at Dean.

Dean scowled. “Do you want to rescue your brothers or not?” He huffed. “Where’s the breeding facility?”

Castiel and Gabriel blinked before glancing at one another in shock. Sam stepped forwards.

“Guys, do you truly think we’d take you back there? You’re our best friends. This is your home. Do you really think we’re gonna dump you in a place that treats you like objects to be used? Do you really think we’d ever betray you like that?” He asked, strained and looking rather ill.

Gabriel and Castiel swallowed thickly, gazing at Sam with so much gratitude, the younger Winchester nearly crushed them both into his arms.

“Give us the address and we’ll look it up, plan a route and tomorrow, we’ll break your brothers out of there,” promised Dean.

“Guys,” choked Gabriel. “You barely know us.”

“Apparently, we don’t, Loki,” said Dean, glancing pointedly at the archangel’s wings. Gabriel ducked his head.

“Why would you even consider doing this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll get into if you get caught breaking into a   
breeding facility no one’s supposed to know about?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah. We kinda work for the law. We’re still gonna do it though because they’re your family and you’re ours.”

Gabriel and Castiel stared at Dean for a long minute until the hunter began to squirm under their scrutiny.

He yelped when two angels attached themselves to him, wrapping their wings around him as they squeezed him tight.

“Thank you,” breathed Gabriel as he pressed closer. Dean wondered if all angels were this tactile.

He hugged them back, gingerly petting their wings and marvelling at their softness. They were lighter than silk yet strangely tough. He felt damp patches on his shirt and realised both angels were weeping silently.

He held them tighter, protective as he buried his fingers in their wings.

“We’ll get them back,” murmured Sam lowly. “We promise.”

Gabriel smiled weakly and latched onto Sam as Castiel snuggled deeper into Dean’s chest, cocooning him in his raven wings. As Gabriel cuddled into Sam, mirroring Castiel’s movements with his own wings, Dead decided that yes, angels were definitely tactile creatures.

A few minutes passed before Gabriel piped up.

“I’m sorry for lying to you about who I am,” he mumbled.

Sam carded his fingers through a wing and the archangel mewled in delight, having gone without anyone touching the appendages in twenty-seven years. He tried to press closer to Sam like a demanding kitten and the younger hunter huffed out a laugh and fisted a bunch of feathers. Gabriel groaned in pure bliss as his feathers fluffed up happily.

“We understand,” Sam murmured, fascinated with the archangel’s reactions. “We didn’t exactly give you reason to trust us when we first met.”

“I’m not thrilled you both lied to us,” began Dean, because Castiel also knew about the deception and played along. “But we promise you’re safe here. After everything you’ve done for us, we’re not gonna suddenly turn our backs on you. We’ll save your brothers, one way or another.”

“But first, let’s get some rest,” commented Sam. “We’re gonna need it for tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I will catch up with comments! Just been a little busy!


	10. Chapter 10

The facility looked more like an old military aircraft hangar with an arching roof and rusting iron walls. It was wide and deep and was possibly the only building within a twenty-mile radius. 

As the Impala approached it, the Winchesters noticed how silent their surroundings were; how barren and lifeless the forests around them were. Even the trees appeared too afraid to rustle in the still, humid air.

Through the rear-view mirror, Dean caught Gabriel stretching a wing towards Castiel, the seraph quickly accepting the offer of comfort as he leaned into his adopted brother. Gabriel's mouth drew into a thin, grim line as he stared defiantly at the facility, three wings curling protectively around Castiel.

"Might want to hide those," Dean said quietly, gaze flicking back to the road. Gabriel being caught as an archangel so early in the game would certainly ruin their chances of finding his brothers. Gabriel muttered a few words under his breath as he rolled his shoulders, his wings shimmering out of view. He slid his arm around Castiel and tugged him closer as the seraph draped one of his own wings around Gabriel's shoulders. 

Dean parked a little distance from the facility, out of view of its guards. The four climbed out of the car and gazed at the building looming ominously before them. It was mostly hidden by trees and vegetation and the shadows of the forests, but there was no mistaking it was in use.

Dean swallowed thickly at the two heavily-armed guards at the front entrance. Where they there to stop people from entering, or monsters from leaving?

He turned to the others.

"We know the plan?" He whispered.

Sam nodded, Gabriel sliding to his side as Castiel moved to Dean's.

Dean glanced over the deactivated collars hanging around their necks. He nodded, satisfied.

"Two guards at the main entrance," he informed Sam and Sam patted his tranquilliser gun to ensure it was still in his back pocket. _'Let's see how humans cope with their own weapons turned against them,' Dean thought._

Dean fingered his own tranquilliser and the four crept forward, Gabriel and Castiel behind both hunters. They wouldn't be able to use any magic on this rescue mission as the facility was warded against all sorts of magic and spells. They would be able to fly however, if a quick escape was needed.

Once they were ten metres from the guards, hidden by trees, Sam and Dean pulled the triggers on their guns.

The guards frowned and reached for their legs, inspecting the red-feathered darts curiously before their eyes widened and they grabbed their radios. No sooner had they lifted the radios to their lips, did they drop to the ground gracelessly.

Dean silently gestured for them to move forwards and both Winchesters tapped their own radios (police issued, _'borrowed'_ for the night without Victor's approval) to ensure they hadn't forgotten anything.

They raced forwards, avoiding the view of the CCTV cameras which Gabriel had already informed them of, and snagged the guards' badges to allow them entrance.

The facility was just as silent in the entrance as it was outside and the Winchesters reasoned there must have been some form of sound-proofing within the walls. 

They continued forwards for a few metres until they came to a second door, guarded by a camera. Castiel crept towards the wall and flung a black wing in front of the lens, shielding the Winchesters from view as they opened the door.

As the four entered the new room, they were overwhelmed by the noise.

This room was huge and tall, separated into four different levels, each containing rows and rows of reinforced glass cages. Monsters of various species were housed within the glass cages, some whimpering, some sobbing, some screaming and yelling furiously, whilst others remained silent, staring listlessly at their glass walls. A few slumped defeatedly in their filthy enclosures, the fight within them long extinguished.

There had to be at least six hundred cages on the ground floor, with around four hundred on each remaining floor. Each enclosure was controlled by an electronic panel with a card scanner and each monsters' information was accessible from the panel. 

Overlooking the four floors and hovering directly above the entrance stood a large control room, which contained a multitude of monitors hooked up to cameras around the warehouse, and a long security and information panel which allowed the user to view any monster, its information and the status of all equipment within the facility.

Dean nodded silently to Sam and the younger Winchester led Gabriel up the stairs to the monitor room as Dean and Castiel made their way towards the 'high-risk' monster section. It was better if Gabriel stayed out of view from wandering staff members in case they recognised his face and Sam was far better with technology than Dean could ever hope to be.

They slipped cautiously through the corridors, deeper into the facility and Castiel was focused as he guided Dean towards the high-risk section he knew well. Dean, however, grimaced with every caged monster that flinched away from him or bared their teeth. He felt his stomach churn when one battered djinn scrambled into the far corner of her cell, tears streaming down her cheeks when she saw him.

He glanced around the cells, noticing how they didn't even have toilets, merely a couple of buckets, one empty and one filled with water. Dean wondered if they were expected to drink and wash themselves from the same water bucket.

The cells were filthy, spattered with blood and various other substances and each monster wore the same grey robes, each one tarnished with varying degrees of blood and dirt depending on how long they had been housed in the facility.

The highest risk section was located on the fourth floor and the more cells Dean passed, the more nauseous he grew. All monsters were collared but some were also shackled, muzzled or, if they were considered particularly dangerous like one of the tricksters Dean had seen, chained to the floor by wrists and ankles.

As they reached the top floor, Dean was horrified by the sight of angels' wings stapled together with warded metal, preventing them from flying or using the appendages as weapons. Their wrists were chained, some of their bindings too tight as they cut into the flesh. Some angels' wings were clipped; permanently damaged so they would never fly again as long as they couldn't heal themselves.

There were demons in this section too and their horns had been filed down into short, smooth nubs so they couldn't injure their handlers. Their leathery wings were stapled or torn to prevent escape and one crossroads demon must have been particularly feisty as the staff had nailed her tail to the floor to prevent her from fighting them and escaping. She leaned against the wall, slumped on the floor as she stared blankly at nothing and when she saw Dean, she whined fearfully and crawled away, wincing when her tail yanked against the nail.

One older demigod, eyes crackling with lightning and skin glowing white, threw himself at the front glass of his cell when he spotted Dean. He banged on it frantically and with a voice like thunder and eyes wide and afraid, yelled _"Where is my mate? Bring me my mate!"_

Dean stared at him, paralysed and uncertain how to answer until Castiel gently pulled him away.

"Stay focused," the seraph murmured but Dean couldn't stop his horrified gaze from flicking around each cell they passed.

He watched one demigod close his eyes and summon a shining gold sword. His collar buzzed frantically and he tensed as shockwave after shockwave was pulsed through his body. Still, he lifted the sword and angled it towards his own abdomen, hands locking tightly around the hilt as he drew upwards.

The electronic panel outside his cell blared a loud siren, lighting up red and flashing brightly as the demigod fought against the electricity racing through his body.

Suddenly, Dean was dragged into another row of cells by a wide-eyed Castiel and he slapped his hand over the hunter's mouth as two staff raced towards the alarming cell. One flashed his card at the panel and the other shot a tranquilliser dart at the demigod once the door opened a crack. The demigod cried out in frustration as his muscles began to relax and his sword was wrestled from his grip. He dropped to the floor, limp and the staff members removed the dart from his neck before leaving the cell with the sword.

Castiel slowly removed his hand from Dean's mouth, watching the sleeping demigod with pity before continuing the mission. 

Dean tilted to one side, suddenly light-headed from the horrific scene. He raced after Castiel but barely made it two steps as he watched a cherub with half-bald wings pluck out her beautiful scarlet feathers with the sort of focused determination of the clinically insane. She sung a haunting song in Enochian as she did so.

Beside her cell, a grey-tailed demon sobbed into the chest of a white-tailed demon. They were both completely naked and the male demon wrapped his snowy wings around his female companion, petting her back soothingly as tears rolled down his cheeks. Her shoulders shook with her sobs and she curled her tail around his tightly as she wailed.

"They took my baby," she whimpered. "My little boy."

The male demon held her tighter. "I'm sorry," he whispered and it was then that Dean realised these demons were not mates. If they were, the woman wouldn't have said 'her baby'. The staff had taken the female demon's baby, stripped her naked and shoved her in with another male for breeding.

Bile rose up Dean's throat and he stumbled after Castiel, burying a hand in the angel's wing to ground himself.

Castiel whirled around with a concerned expression.

"Dean?" He asked softly.

"Your wings," managed Dean. "Were they ever... Did you ever...?" He couldn't bring himself to finish any of his questions. Castiel's gaze softened.

"Stapled," he said quietly. "Before they sold me to the care home."

Dean swallowed down his bile.

"I was never bred and I never self-mutilated or attempted to end my own life. My brothers kept me sane," Castiel offered.

Dean's hand tightened its grip in Castiel's feathers and the angel's wing leaned into his touch. They gazed at each other for a moment, Castiel's gaze steady and reassuring as Dean's burned with sorrow and apology and disgust for the conditions Castiel had suffered through.

Dean's radio crackled to life, Sam's voice filtering through the static.

"Dean? Dean? We're looking at the computer... There's currently only one archangel in this facility. Floor 4, cell D-three-two-seven. Male. Over."

Dean scrambled for the radio as Castiel sagged in disappointment. Still, they might be able to rescue one of his brothers.

"Okay, gotcha. We're heading there now. Over."

He pocketed the radio and glanced at Castiel's defeated stance. He petted a raven wing encouragingly.

"We'll find them," he promised sincerely. "We won't stop looking until we do."

Castiel managed a weak smile and Dean said nothing when the seraph stood a little closer as they made their way towards cell D327.

They had to duck out of the way of another wandering staff member before Dean finally found the cage. He peered at the blue-winged archangel inside and his heart dropped at the shackled creature, wings severely clipped and wrists and ankles bound, silver collar tight around his neck. His robes were painted with blood and his skin was bruised and torn.

He looked up at Dean and turned away wearily, wings dropping lower as he assumed Dean had come to collect him for breeding with one of the seraphs or cherubs.

"Is he one of your brothers?" Asked Dean quietly as Castiel approached, glancing into the cell excitedly.

His wings sagged low and Dean closed his eyes, already knowing the answer.

"No," murmured Castiel, sounding distressed. "He's not."

The archangel looked up at the new voice, frowning in confusion at the sight of Castiel's wings. He glanced at Dean curiously.

"Shit," cursed Dean, running a hand through his hair. Now they had no leads for any of the other archangels.

He watched the archangel's wings tilt, puzzled at their interactions. His cell was just as filthy as all the others, if not more so as he'd been there longer.

"I promise we'll find them," Dean said again, carding his fingers through Castiel's feathers because he knew it relaxed the seraph (and because he enjoyed their softness).

He glanced at the surprised archangel once more. "But first..."

He scanned his card over the panel on the cell door and pressed _'Open'._

_'Access Denied'_ flashed over the screen and Dean frowned, waving the card in front of the scanner once more and pressing _'Open'._

Once again, the error message popped up and Dean scowled at the screen. He grabbed his radio.

"It's not one of the brothers," he said and the answering silence was enough to convey both Gabriel and Sam's disappointment. 

"Can you open the cells from your end? Outside guards don't have permission. Over."

He was surprised when Sam didn't question why he wanted to open the cell when it wasn't who they were looking for.

"Give me a sec," came Sam's grim voice.

Castiel gripped his arm tightly. "Dean, that'll trip the alarm," hissed the angel. 

"We can't leave him like that," Dean frowned, gesturing to the battered archangel. Castiel glanced at the archangel and slowly nodded, watching as the blue-winged creature's eyes widened with hope. He took a step towards the front of the cell.

As Sam was working on the door, Dean looked through the archangel's information, smirking in triumph when he found the collar serial code. He slid his deactivator out of his pocket and quickly typed in the code, hitting _'Enter'_ about the same time the door flew open.

The archangel blinked in shock, pulling his collar and remaining restraints from his body as he approached the door warily, as if he couldn't quite trust his own eyes.

An alarm blared from his cell.

He startled and Dean dragged him into the corridor, pushing him in the direction of the stair case.

"Go!" He urged and the archangel stared at him, bewildered before grabbing his hand in both of his.

"Thank you," he whispered before running towards the stairs.

There were angry and confused shouts a few corridors over and Dean licked his lips as he glanced around the other cells, each monster staring hopefully at him and Castiel as they pressed themselves against the front glass, some pawing at it in hopes it would draw their attention.

"Please," begged one angel as the demon in the next cell over tapped on the glass.

"Help," she whimpered.

Soon the entire corridor was filled with voices begging and pleading to be freed.

"Please help us."

"Don't leave."

"Let us out."

"Save us."

Dean's heart cracked. He tightened his grip on his deactivator and stepped towards the nearest cell, where a demigod perked up in excitement and plastered himself against the glass.

The angry shouting was now only two corridors over.

Castiel surged forwards and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist and the demigod cried out in despair when Castiel spread his wings and lifted Dean into the air, soaring towards the exit.

Dean wriggled frantically against Castiel's grip, trying to get a glimpse of the monsters they'd left behind and his heart shattered and his stomach lurched at the sight of the sobbing and grieving creatures reaching out for them, some clawing at the glass as others slammed their fists against it as they cried.

"We can't leave them," begged Dean desperately but Castiel shook his head, keeping a firm grip on the hunter.

"You'll get a life sentence if you're caught. I'll be put to death."

Dean clamped his mouth shut and watched the monsters wail and slump against the walls of their cells. 

 

* * *

 

Sam ran his hand through his hair as his gaze flicked between each monitor. He could see every cell from the CCTV cameras and the more he stared the more horrific the pictures became. He'd been privy to everything Dean had seen and more besides and he was finding it very hard not to throw up.

He glanced at the unconscious guard Gabriel had downed with disgust. He hoped Gabriel had made him hurt when he knocked him out.

He searched frantically over the control panel and when he didn't find what he was looking for, he scoured the computer's functions just as viciously. 

"There has to be an emergency release," he heard himself saying. "If there's a fire, there must be an emergency evacuation button. Some sort of protocol to open all the doors at once."

Frustration growing, he barely noticed Gabriel lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"They'd rather let us burn," Gabriel murmured softly.

Ice settled in the pit of Sam's stomach as he slowly turned to the archangel.

"This isn't an action hero movie. There's no emergency release button. The cells have to be opened individually. It's a control measure to ensure the staff aren't overpowered. If there's a fire, they leave us and save themselves," said Gabriel quietly.

Sam gulped, tongue paralysed before he returned to the control panel solemnly. Now the alarms had been raised, the guards would be here soon. He had to be quick.

"We should go," murmured Gabriel sadly, spreading his wings as he reached for Sam.

"Give me a minute," Sam muttered, fingers flying over the keyboard as he drew up a list of serial codes and cell numbers. He was grateful the guard in the control room had permission to open the cell doors.

Gabriel frowned in confusion as he watched Sam enter codes and he glanced through the large one-way window and suddenly beamed at the sight of the fourth floor cells beginning to open, one-by-one, monsters stepping into the corridor warily as others ripped their collars from their necks, pulling each other's restraints off.

He was three-quarters of the way through the fourth floor when heavy footsteps could be heard pounding up the staircase to the control room.

Gabriel fanned his wings and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist.

"Time to go, kiddo."

"Wait, I can- "

"No time," interrupted Gabriel as he crashed through the door, sending the guards staggering backwards. They yelled in fury and aimed their guns at Gabriel once they'd righted themselves, but it was too late and Dean had already opened the door to the main cell area, allowing everyone to escape.

Many monsters lingered behind, heading towards the control room to free their friends and family and Dean cheered when a dragon blew a powerful blast of water at the guards near the control room, knocking them off the staircase and sending them tumbling four stories to the ground.

Some monsters followed Dean, Sam, Castiel and Gabriel, fighting any guards who decided to halt their escape and Sam was particularly satisfied when he shot one with a tranquilliser dart.

They broke free of the building, the monsters whooping and roaring and cheering in delight when sunlight hit their faces. Some dragged the Winchesters and their angels into grateful hugs before shooting off into the forests, whilst others reunited with family and friends, nodding thankfully at the four before disappearing.

After the first batch raced off, more monsters burst into the sunlight, hundreds of them, as the first freed monsters succeeded in overpowering the guards and taking control of the control room.

Sam laughed as a family of werewolves in their canine forms bounded over, licking his face and hands, tails motoring before running into the trees. A young, red dragon butted its head against Dean's leg in gratitude as a pair of female demons wrapped their wings around Gabriel and Castiel with quiet sobs of joy.

Dozens of monsters came to thank them, however briefly as they ran from the facility and when a few guards finally emerged, looking battered and bloodied, the four were already tucked inside the Impala and skidding onto the road.

 

* * *

 

"I can't believe you released all those creatures," grinned Gabriel, wings fluttering excitedly as he followed Sam around the kitchen, watching him make coffee and tea.

Sam offered him a smile as he went about spooning nine sugars into Gabriel's cup. Nine for coffee, seven for tea.

"Couldn't leave them there," he shrugged, as if it was no big deal and he wasn't pleased that all those monsters had escaped.

He offered Gabriel his coffee but paused when the archangel gazed at him fondly, eyes warm and appreciative as if Sam had done him a great service.

"Few humans would have rescued those creatures like that. Don't act like it didn't mean anything," murmured Gabriel. "You've come a long way since we first met. I'm proud to call you and Dean my masters."

Sam's smile slipped from his face.

"You shouldn't have to call us _'masters'_ ," he said, remembering the shackled creatures in the facility. "You should be free. You should be able to live your own lives with your own families." He scowled into his own coffee.

Gabriel shrugged lop-sidedly. "Still... I'm glad I was lucky enough to be adopted by you guys and not some asshole who treats me like a slave."

Sam's mouth drew into a thin, unhappy line. He was quiet for a few moments before licking his lips.

"The collars were never meant for this," he murmured. "I read up on them a few weeks ago. When they were first created, it was because humans were hunted by creatures like vampires and werewolves and tormented by demons. But it wasn't only that; creatures were constantly fighting and killing one another. Angels fought demons, wendigos hunted werewolves and all sorts of animals, dragons were territorial and killed one another over land and possessions, demigods tried to kill as many of one another as they could... Everyone was so afraid of the next day being their last. 

"So an inventor came up with the idea of the collars. They were meant to prevent lethal magic and energies, triggering a small burst of electricity to rebuff the negative behaviours. If supernatural creatures agreed to wear the collars, they were given homes and jobs and they would never have to hunt or fight again. They would be protected by the state and all their needs would be taken care of; vampires would be given blood packs, werewolves would be offered extra meat, dragons would be given their own territories without worry of being challenged... All supernatural creatures would be accepted by society.

"There were a few flaws, like how demons had to be rehabilitated to show them there was no point in fighting and torturing everyone they came across and of course, the leviathans were a lost cause... but generally, the system worked. Humans and monsters could live in harmony and we were all equal; we all had the same rights, the same opportunities. 

"Then money came into it. Humans began to complain that monsters like vampires were given free food whereas they had to work to eat. The government decided to charge creatures for what they had previously been gifted for wearing the collars. As prices increased, monsters found they were struggling to afford their needs and questioned the point of wearing the collars when they weren't getting anything out of them. Some removed the collars and returned to their old ways and everyone became fearful of one another again. 

"The government decided wearing collars shouldn't be optional and began capturing monsters and forcing them into new collars that the wearer couldn't remove. Because of that, the creatures grew resentful of humans and the collars. Chainmail really came into their own then and they created programmable collars that wouldn't only react to lethal energy, but pretty much any negative energy or emotion. The government snapped them up and forced all monsters to wear them. As monsters grew more desperate to free themselves, their hatred of humans increasing, the government decided their behaviour had to be monitored. There were so many creatures, they decided the public should have to adopt at least one monster by law. At first it was free, then they realised they could make money off it and now each different creature has a different price."

Sam swirled his coffee around his cup. "It's all about money in the end. I read that the woman who initially invented the collars saw what they were becoming and killed herself. She couldn't live with the thought that she'd started it all."

A loaded silence fell within the kitchen before Sam finally gazed at Gabriel's frowning face.

"You shouldn't have had to live in that facility. You shouldn't be bred like animals. If humans weren't so obsessed with money and power, you wouldn't be sold like slaves. You wouldn't have your wings stapled and your wrists shackled and you wouldn't have to put up with your skin melting off for having so much as a bad dream."

Sam sounded distressed and Gabriel could tell by the wideness of his eyes that the facility was going to haunt his nightmares tonight. His gaze softened.

"Which is why you should be proud of what you did today, kiddo. You saved a lot of creatures who'd given up hope."

"And how many others have I killed?" Whimpered Sam, running a hand through his hair. "How many others have I shot or stabbed because I didn't look at the evidence? How many innocent creatures have died at my hands because I just assumed humans were always in the right?"

Gabriel's wings drooped. He'd wondered when this was going to come up. When the Winchesters were going to start questioning past choices once they learned the truth about the world they thought they'd known.

"How can you stand to look at me?" Whispered Sam, looking broken and lost. "I've killed so many innocent creatures. I'm a murderer. Evil. You should be disgusted by me."

"So evil that you rescued an entire breeding facility from slavery. So evil that you saved hundreds of creatures from torture and humiliation," huffed Gabriel. "Yes, you've made mistakes and hopefully you won't forget them, but you've learned from them and you're trying to make yourself a better person. You're doing what's right and that's what matters. I'm not disgusted by you, Sam. I'm proud of you. I'm proud of how far you've come since we first met."

Sam's eyes were beginning to glaze over with a thin sheen of water, the horrors of the day and the recollection of past cases becoming too much.

"You should hate me," he stressed. "You should despise me and want me dead. You should- "

"Sam," said Gabriel quietly, cutting off the hunter's babbling.

Tears flowed down Sam's cheeks then as his voice grew choked and raw with emotion.

"How could they do that to you? How could they treat you guys like that? How could they hurt and humiliate you like that?"

Gabriel placed his coffee on the counter and marched over to the hunter, plucking Sam's cup from his grip and placing it on the counter as well. Then he wrapped his wings around Sam and tugged the younger man into a hug. Angels craved contact when they were upset so he didn't see why it wouldn't work for humans too.

Sam pressed his face into Gabriel's neck, clutching at his back and the base of a wing as the archangel held him tighter.

"I'm sorry," whispered Sam, voice cracking and he wasn't really sure what he was apologising for anymore. "I'm so sorry."

Gabriel smoothed a hand over the hunter's back.

"It's okay," he murmured because he assumed it would help. He nosed at Sam's hair. The height difference was a little awkward but Gabriel didn't care because after living as a trickster for so long with that blasted collar shocking him every minute of every day, it felt amazing to finally be granted social contact. Sam was big and strong and he hugged with his entire body and Gabriel adored it.

They held each other for a few moments before Dean's voice floated into the kitchen.

"You get lost on the way to the coffee tin?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm coming," he grumbled, squeezing Gabriel one last time before finally drawing back with an embarrassed smile.

"Uh... Sorry about that."

Gabriel chuckled and pulled his wings away from the hunter.

"Don't be. You have no idea how happy it makes me to know you genuinely give a crap about me and Cas and every other creature who was tortured in that facility."

He picked up his coffee and Castiel's tea.

"Come on. Let's go water the animals," he winked. Sam smiled weakly and grabbed his and Dean's coffees.

When they made their way into the lounge, they raised their eyebrows at the sight of Dean pouring over a map he'd spread over the coffee table, Castiel by his side, looking engrossed in whatever Dean was explaining.

"About time," he grumbled when Sam handed him a cup and his brother shot him a bitchface before plopping down on the couch beside Gabriel.

"What's all this?" He asked, glancing at the orange dots littered over the map of the U.S.A. There was one in every state and the one in Kansas had a black cross through it.

"These are the locations of every breeding facility across the U.S.A. Since Michael, Lucifer and Raphael aren't in Kansas, they must be in another state. We've got to figure out which facility they're in."

Sam blinked at the map. "...How did you get all these locations? What did you do; call the military? Blackmail the government?" He huffed in disbelief.

Dean snorted. "Google search. Page three. They have a website."

Sam's eyebrows flew to his hairline. "...The breeding facilities have a website?"

"You can place orders for specific monsters. They advertise them as _'new and unused'_ in fancy gold letters."

Sam clenched his fists. "Did they say they came with a spare wheel and a lemon-scented air freshener too?"

"Might as well have," grumbled Dean. "They compared the 'quality' of their monsters to an adoption centre. Said adoption centres sold _'second-hand goods'_ whereas they sold _'high-quality, never-been-used-before products'_."

Sam cursed under his breath before glancing at the map.

"So how are we gonna work out where they are? Do you guys have any idea where they could be?" He asked, flicking his gaze between Castiel and Gabriel.

Both angels shook their heads slowly. 

"The facilities trade globally," murmured Gabriel.

Sam and Dean stared at him. 

"You're saying they might not even be in America?" Whispered Sam.

Gabriel nodded. Dean swore.

"How are we supposed to find them when they could be anywhere in the world?" Seethed Dean, frustrated. 

"If they're wearing company collars, their movements will be recorded somewhere," reasoned Castiel. "As long as they haven't changed their collars illegally, we should be able to track which facilities they've been to."

Dean closed his eyes wearily. "And to do that we would need a collar register database. Like the one in the facility we just broke out of."

Castiel nodded. "Exactly like that one. Gabriel and I know their original serial codes. If we find where they were moved to and if their collars have been replaced, we should be able to track their current position."

"So we need to break back into that facility?" Sam murmured. "Now it's crawling with police and security and government officials?"

Castiel nodded.

Dean groaned. "Well we can't do it today. Might not be able to do it for the rest of the week whilst all the investigations are going on over there. We'll have to wait for things to cool down before we even think of breaking back in."

Castiel and Gabriel looked unhappy but they nodded in understanding. They couldn't risk themselves and the Winchesters unnecessarily otherwise their brothers would never be rescued.

Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. "It's a plan," he muttered. After a few moments, he reached for the TV remote and flipped the screen on.

_'...A large number of uncollared monsters have been spotted around Cottonwood Falls, Kansas. Local farmers report numbers to be in the high hundreds and many residents around the area are concerned about their safety. It is currently unknown why so many monsters seem to have congregated around this area, but experts believe it may have something to do with the upcoming full moon.'_

Dean snorted and turned the volume up. Apparently the Kansas breeding facility wasn't being too forthcoming about their little emergency.

_'We're going live to Professor Donatello Redfield of Sunset Laboratories, Wichita. Professor, what do you believe is the cause of this unusual mass gathering in Cottonwood?'_

A stout, greying man in a lab coat appeared on screen. Behind him was what appeared to be some sort of small laboratory with all sorts of chemicals and drugs lining shelves around the room. There was a small hand washing station and a fume cupboard for noxious gases as well as a small desk littered with post-it notes and a few loose papers. Scientists bustled in and out of the room, grabbing drugs or transporting objects through one door and out of a second. There was a small pause before the man cleared his throat.

_'Well, in my opinion, the lunar cycle this month is- '_

"That's him!" Said Castiel suddenly, wings flinging out as he straightened. His eyes glowed blue in excitement as he pointed at the screen. "That's Raphael!"

Gabriel immediately stiffened and leaned forwards, squinting at the screen. Behind the Professor, two scientists were leading a shackled creature towards a door on the left. The creature had its head bowed but its skin was dark and there were definitely wings sprouting from its back.

"Are you sure?" Asked Dean skeptically. He could barely see the creature's wings, let alone make out what it was.

"Yes. That's Raph," said Gabriel excitedly, wings fluttering and just as Sam and Dean wondered how they could be so certain, the scientists yanked on the creature's shackles a little too harshly and his wings flared, restrained by bindings, but it was enough to make out three pairs of rose-gold appendages.

Archangel.

"Sunset laboratories, Wichita," said Gabriel. "That's where he is." He turned a pleading gaze upon Sam and Dean. "We have to rescue him. Who knows what they're doing to him in a lab? What if they dissect him or drain his grace or cut off his wings or- "

Sam squeezed Gabriel's shoulder reassuringly.

"We'll go tonight, when the lab is closed," he promised.

Gabriel beamed and Sam laughed when the archangel lunged forwards for another bone-crushing hug. Angels were cuddly creatures.

He turned his gaze to Dean, who was murmuring something to Castiel. The seraph suddenly fluffed out his feathers in happiness and leaned into Dean's side with a flutter of his wings.

Dean huffed out a laugh and wrapped an arm around the angel as he returned his focus to the TV. He carded gentle fingers through Castiel's feathers and a small smile lingered on his features as he plotted their mission in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this chapter out! Hope you're still enjoying despite the wait!


	11. Chapter 11

"Wait, so you guys were born at a breeding facility and because you're like... super rare, some of you were forced to... breed with other angels, then one of you broke out and you all got separated and now you're breaking into this lab in hopes of reuniting with a brother you haven't seen in twenty-seven years?" Came the distinctly feminine voice from Sam's phone. "And out of all the people you could have chosen to help you, you picked the Winchesters? As in gun-wielding, holy oil-brandishing, blade-waving Winchesters? Monster-despising Sam and Dean? Prejudiced, stubborn-headed, shoot-first-ask-questions-later Sam and Dean? The guys who like to kill everything that's not one-hundred percent human?"

"Gee, Charlie, I never realised you thought so highly of us," grumbled Dean, tone tinged with hurt as he rolled onto the highway. There wasn't much traffic this late in the evening.

There was a snort from Sam's phone. "You know how I feel about your attitude towards monsters," Charlie huffed. "I love you guys to pieces but I hate how you're so quick to judge anything non-human. They don't deserve half the crap we put them through and so many creatures suffer at the hands of humans, but you guys never seem to see that. You just think they're all evil and want to put a bullet in their skulls."

Dean shifted uncomfortably as Sam cleared his throat a little awkwardly. Both resolutely looked away from the phone.

"Hey, don't be too quick to condemn them," chided Gabriel gently when silence fell within the car. "They've changed a lot since we first came into their care and I think it's safe to say both Cassie and I are grateful to be under their roof rather than be at the mercy of some sadistic, feather-pulling psychopath."

"Not to mention they have already attempted to save our brothers once today. Whilst the plan didn't go as expected, the Winchesters rescued many other creatures in desperate need of aid. Hundreds, in fact. They displayed a great manner of compassion and empathy for the creatures trapped inside that breeding facility," Castiel chimed in.

There was a whole minute of silence before Charlie finally spoke again.

"...You're defending them. I don't think I've ever heard any creature defend them." She sounded genuinely shocked.

"They have been kind to us," Castiel offered softly. "Whilst our relationship may have been rocky to start with, they have learned quickly."

Charlie fell quiet for a few moments before she cleared her throat.

"Huh. Well how about that? Maybe there's hope for you two yet," she teased but there was an undertone of delight in her words, as if she couldn't quite believe the Winchesters had changed their attitudes towards monsters.

"Well, let's focus on the case, yeah?" Mumbled Dean. "You ever hacked a lab security system before?"

Charlie hummed thoughtfully. "No, but I did hack into a police database once. It can't be too hard."

Charlie worked in the IT department of a small tech company. She was highly overqualified for the job, but she liked her coworkers and the free time she was granted and the pay wasn't that bad either. She had worked with the police before and that's how Sam and Dean had met her. They enjoyed her company although up until recently, they hadn't understood her passion for monsters' rights. Now, they think they have an idea why she has always been kind to the creatures in her care.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," sighed Dean before licking his lips. "I'm not sure how tight security is gonna be, but if it looks like we're gonna get caught, you're gonna high-tail it out of there and we'll take the wrap, okay?"

They could practically hear her frown. "No way. I'm seeing this rescue mission through. I promised to help you guys and that's what I'm going to do."

Dean caught Castiel and Gabriel smiling softly through his mirror. 

"Look, I know you want to rush in and save the day, but we need to know that if things go south, Gabriel and Castiel are gonna be in good hands. Your hands. I don't want them going back to the adoption centre," huffed Dean.

Castiel and Gabriel raised their eyebrows at him and Dean elected to ignore them. He wasn't about to let them go through another few rounds of Hell because of a botched rescue mission.

There was another pause before Charlie coughed lightly. "Yeah, alright. I can do that."

"Thanks, Charlie," smiled Sam. "See you when we get there."

"Peace out," she hummed before the phone fell silent and Sam shoved it into his pocket.

Both Winchesters refused to say anything when Castiel and Gabriel's wings fluttered gently out of fondness.

 

* * *

 

The laboratory didn't loom ominously above the treetops like the breeding facility had. It didn't look dark and foreboding with rusting steel walls and guards posted at the entrance.

It was a medium-sized, white building with clean windows and modern glass doors. It looked to have two floors and was surrounded by a lush green garden and cheerful plant pots with vibrant flowers of all different colours and sizes. To the back of the lab was a small car park which allowed access for staff and visitors. Overall, the place didn't look like a torture chamber.

Still, the Winchesters felt their stomachs churn with uneasiness at the prospect of what they might find. Who knows what state Raphael would be in when they reached him?

Gabriel and Castiel sized up the building, gazes darting from window to window in hopes of catching a glimpse of their lost brother. Unfortunately, the windows revealed nothing. 

A shiny, yellow VW Bug was the only car resting within the car park and Dean grimaced at the thing before parking up beside it. The Bug's door swung open as soon as Dean switched the engine off and a red-headed woman popped her head over the roof, grinning when she spotted Sam and Dean.

The Winchesters clambered out of the car and the red-head trotted over to them, tugging them both into hugs which were received with small, fond smiles.

Gabriel and Castiel slid out of the car and lingered behind the brothers warily. Charlie seemed nice but they hadn't had too much luck with humans and they thought it best to wait to see how their presence was taken.

They needn't have worried. Charlie's eyes brightened as she spotted them and she immediately pulled them both into hugs before staring in awe at Gabriel's six magnificent wings.

"Woah, I've never met an archangel before." 

"Gabriel," said the archangel with a small smile. "This is my little brother, Castiel." He gestured to the seraph, who bowed his head politely.

Her gaze flicked between them both before she narrowed her eyes at their collars and whirled to face Sam and Dean.

"You deactivated them," she grinned in delight.

The Winchesters shrugged. Charlie whistled appreciatively. 

"You guys have changed."

"Yeah, whatever," mumbled Dean as he avoided her gaze. "Are we hacking into this place or not? 'Cause we can always smash a window if you think you're not up to it."

Charlie scrunched her nose up with a frown. "Always so bossy," she huffed before twirling around and heading towards the main entrance of the lab.

Sam scowled disapprovingly at his brother before joining their friend, Gabriel and Castiel trailing behind, wings twitching anxiously.

Charlie inspected the door for a moment before taking a step backwards and pulling something that looked vaguely similar to a long hair pin from her pocket.

"Just a regular door," she grinned as she picked the lock with ease and held the door open for them to bustle through.

They found themselves in a reception area, with white laminate floors and grey walls. Leather couches dotted the area with small tables littered with scientific journals and magazines. There was an information and help desk to the right side of the room and reports and certificates and other achievements decorated the walls, most of them framed or behind glass.

On the opposite side of the room was a heavy door with _'Authorised Access Only'_ engraved in bulky red letters onto a white plate. The door bore no lock.

The group headed towards it and pushed through. They came to a long corridor lined with what appeared to be small conference rooms, so they passed them and eventually came to a handful of storage rooms for various chemicals and machinery. Next to these were rooms containing examination tables, not dissimilar to a doctor's consultation room. 

The doors at the end of the corridor were huge and grey and important-looking. Above them were two lights; one yellow with the words _'Testing in Progress'_ plastered over the top and the other red with the words _'Radiation Risk'_ above it. Neither was lit but there was an electronic panel beside the doors, it's screen displaying _'Locked'_. This was where the employees used their pass cards. 

"Okay, Charlie. Do your thing," murmured Dean and Charlie nodded and gazed over the panel for a moment before pulling out her phone.

Sam peered over her shoulder, curious as to what she was doing but all that tech stuff was beyond Dean so he turned to the nervous angels instead.

"You two okay?" He asked softly.

Castiel licked his lips, wings flicking without rest.

"No," he admitted quietly. "I'm concerned about what state we'll find Raphael in. What have they done to him? What chemicals have they injected him with? What if he..." Castiel trailed off, swallowing thickly. "What if he's not how we remember him?"

Dean frowned. Decades had passed since Castiel and Gabriel had last seen their brother. It would be foolish to believe things were the same as they once were. For all they knew, Raphael could be completely brain-dead.

"What's important is we get him out of here," Dean said instead, just as the doors buzzed and Charlie fist-pumped the air.

The doors slid open and the five scuttled through, pausing to take in the huge room filled with examination tables fitted with straps and other restraints. Shelves of drugs and chemicals lines the walls and there were expensive-looking machines in this room that none of the five could even guess as to the function of. The room was on two floors, with the second floor looking very much like the first, only with a few private units for more dangerous experiments (or maybe more aggressive monsters).

Castiel and Gabriel's wings flapped violently at the sight of the warded restraints and the names of some of the more toxic chemicals resting atop the shelves. They recognised one silver device as the contraption used to drain angels of their grace and they quickly turned away, trying not to think about poor Raphael screaming in desperation as his throat was cut and his grace drained from his body. 

Sam gently squeezed their shoulders to comfort them before gesturing towards another room at the back; the storage room they'd seen on the TV. They passed through it and entered another area lined with glass cells, each controlled by a pass card panel. 

Inside each cell was a different monster, each looking dull-eyed, drugged and broken, some with scars and others with parts of tails or wings or horns missing.

Gabriel whined, memories of the breeding facility returning to him and he scuttled up the corridor, Castiel close behind him as they scoured the cells for their brother.

Charlie stared at the first cell in horror. It held a seraph with ruby red wings. The angel's eyes were glassy with whatever drugs the scientists had pumped into her and her body was littered with needle and scalpel scars. Her once beautiful strawberry hair was matted and she was crouched in the corner of her cell, arms and scarred wings wrapped around her protectively.

Sam and Dean glanced at the broken angel sadly before jogging after their own angels.

Charlie was too focused on the seraph to pay attention to where her friends were going. She approached the cell cautiously and placed a hand on the glass as she tried to get a closer look.

She tapped lightly on the glass with a fingernail and the angel slowly lifted her head with a fearful gaze. 

Charlie's heart broke at the terrified look in her eyes and her face must have given her thoughts away because the angel tilted her head in confusion before warily unfolding her wings and raising her head to take a better look at Charlie.

Charlie let her own gaze roam over the angel's figure. She was pretty; would have been even prettier if not for the scars and bruises from the restraints.

She glanced at the angel's documents, held within a rack on the door of her cell. She searched for a name but scowled when she was greeted by a number instead. _'#146'_ it read. 

Charlie huffed and returned her attention to the curious angel. She waved slowly at the creature and grinned when the seraph raised her eyebrows and slowly waved back.

After a few moments of staring at one another, the angel crawled closer to the front of her cell, still cautious, but clearly intrigued despite all the experiments she'd been tortured with.

"Hello," Charlie greeted softly.

The seraph continued to stare.

"What's your name?" Charlie tried, the glass muffling her words.

The angel hesitated. "...One-four-six," she eventually replied, voice soft and timid.

Charlie scrunched her nose up and the angel flinched and cowered slightly. Charlie quickly softened her features.

"I mean, what's the name you were born with?"

The angel frowned in confusion. "One-four-six," she repeated. 

Charlie paused. Had this angel been born in the lab? Had she never left this cell?

"My name is Charlie," she said. "My mom gave me that name. Did your mom give you a name?" Her heart clenched at the reminder of her late mother.

The seraph frowned and dropped her gaze, thinking hard.

"Anna," she mumbled finally. "I think she called me Anna."

"...Have you ever been out of this cell, Anna?" Asked Charlie quietly.

Anna nodded and glanced down at her scarred body before miming injecting her arm.

Charlie bit her lip. "Have you ever been out of the lab?"

Anna frowned once more and shook her head, as though confused at the idea of leaving the only home she'd ever known.

Charlie scowled as she glanced around the tiny cell. It was barely big enough to fit a narrow mattress, a sink and a toilet, none of which offered any privacy from neighbouring cells or scientists passing by. She shuddered at the idea of the world watching her go about her life. Not that Anna had much of a life.

Charlie noticed a few sheets of paper and some pencils stuffed beneath the mattress. 

"...You draw?" She asked weakly and Anna recoiled, eying Charlie suspiciously as though she would take the only belongings she seemed to have. She nodded.

Charlie couldn't swallow past the lump in her throat. How could anyone treat these creatures like this? How could anyone lock them away in a cell all their lives and treat them like things to be experimented upon and pumped so full of drugs they could barely think or see straight? How could they call them by a number instead of their name?

She remembered what Sam and Dean had told her about the breeding facility and had to close her eyes for a moment, anger and nausea bubbling away in her gut as she fought the urge to punch something.

There was a light tap on the glass and Charlie opened her eyes to find Anna gingerly holding one of her drawings up. It was a black and white sketch of a lily but the detail was incredible and Charlie could picture every different texture of the flower, from the hard leaves to the delicate stamens. 

Charlie stared at it in awe for a few moments before Anna placed the picture in her lap and smiled at it as if it was something precious to her.

"I got to see one once," she murmured. "It was a present for one of my masters. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

Charlie wanted to throw up. Anna had only seen a flower once in her life. She meant nothing to the scientists she called 'masters'; her life was worthless.

Charlie clenched her fists before relaxing when Anna glanced at her a little fearfully. Who knew what else these scientists had done to her?

"Do you want to see another flower?" Charlie asked as she crouched down to be eye-level with the angel. Anna perked up, wings fluttering excitedly as she nodded.

Charlie set to work on the electronic panel.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Gabriel and Castiel searched each cell, anxiousness filling their minds and hearts as they prayed that their brother was okay.

They froze when they finally spotted him.

The dark-skinned angel was hunched over on his mattress, arms wrapped around his knees and face tucked behind them. His impressive wings were missing feathers and his arms were covered in scars from a multitude of needles and scalpels. His wrists and ankles were severely bruised from restraints and his collar was thick and heavy, making it difficult for him to lift his head. 

Gabriel and Castiel rushed forwards, pressing against the glass as their gazes roamed over his form.

"Raph," breathed Gabriel, heart thumping wildly as his gaze glowed golden in distress. He banged against the glass desperately.

The rose gold-winged archangel shifted slightly, turning away from the door without looking up. His wings flicked irritably as he tried to hide himself away from who he thought was about to drag him into another testing room.

"Raph," whined Gabriel, tapping on the glass again.

His brother buried his head further behind his knees, wings curling around himself defensively.

"Brother, please look up," murmured Castiel, chest aching.

This time, Raphael paused, whole body tensed as he finally recognised the voices. He turned slowly, unraveling himself as he lifted his head towards the door.

Gabriel and Castiel choked back broken sobs. Raphael's eyes were pale blue and unfocused. He was clearly blind.

"Oh, brother," breathed Castiel as Gabriel whimpered and the other archangel's wings twitched in hopefulness.

"...Castiel? Gabriel? Is that... Is that you?" He whispered through a hoarse voice, raw from disuse. 

"Yes," managed Castiel. "Yes, it's us. We're here to rescue you."

Another hopeful wing flick.

"It's really you?"

"What have they done to you?" Murmured Gabriel, demoralised.

Sam and Dean finally caught up and they swallowed thickly at Raphael's state. 

"This him?" Asked Dean, making Raphael frown in confusion at the strange voice.

"Who's that?" He demanded.

"Dean Winchester and his brother Sam. They're our humans. They're here to bust you out," said Gabriel and both Winchesters couldn't help but quirk a small smile at Gabriel's avoidance of the term 'owners'.

Raphael stiffened, wings swinging back around himself for protection.

"You brought your masters?" He hissed and there was fear in his voice, mixed with distrust.

"We brought friends," corrected Castiel, making Raphael frown. The seraph turned to the Winchesters. "This cell is warded against magic. We can't break him out."

"Charlie!" Dean yelled and there was the sound of two sets of running feet before Charlie appeared by their side, joined by a skittish red-winged seraph. She glanced between the Winchesters warily before perking up at the sight of Gabriel and Castiel. Charlie smiled at her reassuringly before grabbing her phone and focusing on Raphael's panel.

After a couple of minutes, the door slid open and Gabriel and Castiel bolted inside the cell.

Raphael yelped in surprise but quickly melted into the tight embraces of his brothers as they curled their wings around him protectively.

"We need to get out of here so I can heal you," stated Castiel, distressed gaze landing on Raphael's useless eyes. His brother pulled a face but said nothing and Gabriel and Castiel led their brother out of the cell and towards the door they had entered through earlier.

Sam and Dean paused, glancing back at the hopeless and defeated monsters left in the cells.

They shared a glance with an equally distraught Charlie before returning their attention to their angels and a curious Anna.

Dean fished the car keys out of his pocket and threw them towards Gabriel.

"Go ahead without us. We won't be long."

Gabriel and Castiel's expressions softened and Dean couldn't help but smile back, a warm, pleased feeling in his chest at their gazes.

When they vanished, Anna opting to linger behind with Charlie, Dean turned to Sam with a grin.

"We've already released hundreds of monsters today; what's a few more?"

Sam shook his head in amusement and pulled out his deactivator as Charlie began working on opening the cell of a young wendigo.

 

* * *

 

Castiel cursed under his breath, startling both Dean and Sam as they drove home.

Charlie had already hopped in her own car, herding Anna in with her because the seraph didn't seem to want to leave her side unlike all the other lab monsters, whom had jumped at the chance to escape the clutches of humans.

Setting all those broken monsters free and watching their eyes brighten with hope had been one of the most fulfilling experiences Sam and Dean had ever had. All in all, today had been one of the best days of the Winchesters lives.

However, as Castiel cradled Raphael's face between his palms, pumping as much healing energy into his brother as he could whilst he scowled and cursed and flapped his wings in distress, the Winchesters had a feeling today would not end as rosy and cheery as they had first anticipated.

Raphael's body was healed, his collar discarded in the footwell of the back seat and his wings were no longer riddled with scars and bare patches where his feathers had been plucked.

However, his gaze was still pale and nothing Castiel or Gabriel did would return his vision.

The seraph swiped furiously at a tear that rolled down his cheek and he pushed his grace through Raphael's body even harder, frantically trying to heal his eyes. 

Eventually, Raphael grasped Castiel's shaking wrists, gently pulling them from his face and holding them as more tears leaked down the seraph's cheeks.

"Stop, Castiel," whispered Raphael when he felt wisps of exhaustion creeping into his little brother's grace. 

Castiel's face crumpled and he yanked Raphael into a heartbroken hug, clutching at his wings as he buried his tear-stained face into the archangel's neck.

Raphael held the seraph closer as he smoothed a hand down his back and carded his fingers through soft tufts of hair.

"Sshh," he soothed quietly. "It's alright, little brother."

"I'm sorry," Castiel choked, breath hitching under the weight of his despair. "I'm so sorry." He gripped his brother's wings tighter.

Raphael tucked the seraph's head under his chin.

"You saved me," he murmured. "You shouldn't be sorry." He smiled, small and comforting. "I'm happy, Castiel. I'm happy I finally get to hear my brothers' voices again."

He felt a pair of arms wind around his waist from behind and he shifted his wings to allow Gabriel to settle against his back. The younger archangel's face pressed between his shoulder blades as he, too, attempted to hide his quiet sobs.

Gabriel's wings swung around the trio and Raphael felt himself relax into the embrace, sigh shaky and full of relief as he allowed himself to hope he wasn't going to be torn away from his family again, even if he couldn't see them.

Sam and Dean watched through the rear view mirror, silent and chests aching for the fractured family. 

When they returned home, Sam ushered the angels to the couch and watched as the trio latched onto one another, wings wrapping around one another as they clinged tightly to each other. They petted each other's feathers and pressed into one another's sides and their graces reached out, desperate to feel their siblings in a way unique to angels.

Raphael slumped against his brothers, closing his eyes as he basked in their affection, desperate for any touch he was granted. Castiel and Gabriel didn't hold back as they smoothed their hands over his wings and arms and face, touching any part of him they could, as if they were terrified he would be snatched away from them at any moment.

Sam slipped into the kitchen to make hot drinks and found Dean downing a glass of whisky, looking pale and sweaty.

"You definitely threw that collar out of the window, right?" He rumbled at Sam and his brother nodded, frowning in concern.

"Yeah. On the highway about forty minutes back."

Dean nodded and poured himself another drink. After he knocked it back he slammed the glass down and grit his teeth.

"They blinded him," he seethed. "They injected him with so much crap, he's permanently blind."

Sam chewed his lip as he grabbed five mugs.

"How can they do that to them? How can they treat them like animals? Worse than animals. They treat them like filth. Think they can do whatever they want to them. Don't think about how they have families and friends and lovers..." He poured himself another glass of numbing liquor.

He cursed when a headache began to bloom behind his eyes and at the back of his skull.

"How many creatures have we treated like that, Sammy?" Dean asked hoarsely. "How many creatures have we hurt or killed because we were too stupid to see what was really going on? What if next time, it's Cas or Gabe who get tortured? What if they get caught and experimented on or thrown into some horrific facility where they're abused and forced to breed? What if they're stabbed by some ignorant hunter like us?"

Sam stirred the tea a little too roughly.

"They won't be," he growled softly. "We won't let them."

Dean rubbed his eyes.

"Anyone lays a finger on them, I'll rip their arms off," he agreed, voice hushed and determined.

"Raph's staying with us, right?" Asked Sam. "We can push the beds together in Cas and Gabe's room. Let 'em sleep together."

Dean nodded. "Damn right he's staying with us," he muttered. "Don't care what the law has to say about it. He's ours now. Cas and Gabe's family."

Sam smiled, pleased as he gathered up the four teas and a hot chocolate onto a tray and he wandered into the living room, pausing at the sight of the three angels cuddled together and grooming one another happily.

Sam rounded the larger couch and placed the tray of drinks on the table in front of it. His mouth drew downwards at Raphael's slight flinch and the way he pressed himself into the back of the couch, drawing his brothers closer to him as though protecting them.

"Sam and Dean won't hurt us," whispered Gabriel reassuringly as he raked his fingers through a rose-gold wing. "They're good to us. They'll keep us safe," he promised and Sam felt himself puff up at the thought of Gabriel trusting them enough to believe that.

Gabriel offered him a small smile and Sam returned the expression as he grabbed the archangel's hot chocolate. 

"Of course we will," agreed Sam. "We won't let anyone hurt you again, Raphael. I promise."

Raphael's mouth was a thin, uncertain line before he frowned slightly.

"...You won't separate me from my brothers or throw us into another breeding facility?"

Sam's tightened grip nearly shattered Castiel's mug.

"No," he growled softly. "No, this is your home now. We'll take care of you just like any other guest."

Raphael looked skeptical but he nodded stiffly and accepted the hot tea the younger Winchester offered him. He groaned quietly when the tea touched his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted something so good. He wasn't sure if he'd ever had a cup of tea before. He couldn't remember ever drinking anything that wasn't water or eating anything that wasn't an off-putting, tasteless, grey sludge.

"You hungry?" Asked Sam and Raphael nodded wordlessly, unsure whether he would get into trouble for admitting his hunger.

"We have leftover pork noodles if you're okay with that? It's Gabe's cooking, so you know it's good," said Sam and Raphael cocked a surprised eyebrow when he felt Gabriel's feathers fluff up at the praise.

He licked his lips at the thought of delicious, home-cooked food.

He nodded eagerly and Sam smiled again before shuffling off into the kitchen to reheat the noodles.

Raphael sipped at his tea, savouring the flavour because he didn't know when he would next taste it again and he nestled between his brothers, for once feeling content and at peace as the younger angels slung their arms around him and snuggled into his sides.

He wrapped his wings around them both.

"I love you," he whispered to them, voice raw and overwhelmed with emotion.

They held him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally worked out how many chapters I'm going to have! Hope you're still enjoying!


	12. Chapter 12

Raphael was… distrusting of the Winchesters.

They didn’t blame him; he had never had good experiences with humans, what, with being born in a breeding facility and then being shoved into a laboratory where he was poked and prodded at with needles and all sorts of pain-inducing chemicals and machinery until he went blind. Raphael had good reason to be wary of humanity.

It did make talking to him difficult though and the archangel rarely spoke to the Winchesters unless he believed he’d get into trouble if he didn’t answer a direct question. He also had a habit of flinching and pulling his wings behind his back submissively whenever the Winchesters were in the room, and it was clear he didn’t want them near his little brothers as he would puff out his feathers slightly if they got too close.

Castiel and Gabriel tried to reassure him many times, but often their comforting landed upon deaf ears and Raphael would just try to avoid the Winchesters as much as possible, never knowing when his new masters would click another collar around his neck and hurt him. 

Raphael’s fear was stressful for everyone involved, with tensions running high between them all whenever they were in a room together. The Winchesters tried to stay calm and keep from scaring him, but the smallest of triggers would send him cowering or throwing his arms in front of his face to protect himself. The buzz of the microwave, the sound of a knife hitting a cutting board, heat from the stove… these were just a few examples of everyday things that had Raphael whimpering and trembling.

A week passed and it felt like the only time anyone relaxed was when they were in bed, sleeping. Raphael took to sleeping between his brothers in their makeshift double bed and Gabriel and Castiel made sure he was safely tucked between them before they even thought about closing their eyes. No one would take Raphael away from them again.

However, one evening when Raphael had convinced himself watching a movie with the Winchesters and his brothers wasn’t going to put him too much at risk, he drifted off on the furthest end of the couch and without the warmth of his brother’s bodies pressed into him, the nightmares began.

It was late, nearing two a.m. and everyone had dozed off in front of the TV, which had long since turned itself off due to inactiveness. 

Raphael scowled as he heard the rattle of chains and he looked down to find his wrists and ankles cuffed as a man in a white coat dragged him out of his cell. His wings stiffened in alarm. Hadn’t he just been with his brothers? Where were they now? Had he not really escaped? Was it all a dream?

The scientist led him into a private room with an examination table and he felt the drugs in his system weakening his reactions as he was shoved onto the table and strapped down. He tugged at his restraints but to no avail and his eyes widened as he watched the scientist draw a generous sample of holy oil into his syringe. Raphael gasped and writhed against his restraints desperately as the scientist approached him with a cold stare.

“Where are my brothers?” Raphael demanded as his head was forced to one side, exposing his jugular vein.

The scientist didn’t answer as he palpated the vein.

“Where are Castiel and Gabriel?” Raphael hissed again and this time the scientist shot him a smirk before gesturing to the far wall, where two bloodied bodies were slumped against it, wings sliced off and throats slashed, grace leaking from the wounds. 

Castiel and Gabriel’s eyes were pale and lifeless, mouths open in an everlasting scream and Raphael heard himself scream in despair as he strained against his straps and tried to reach for his dead brothers.

_“Raphael!”_

He fought against the scientist holding him down, thrashing his head around as he attempted to evade the syringe.

_“Raphael!”_

The dream faded away and in its place was nothing but pure darkness. Everything was black and he couldn’t see anything, so he screamed again, voice choking off into a sob as he looked around desperately for his brothers amongst the nothingness.

“Raphael! It’s okay! You’re safe! You’re not at the lab anymore.”

The voice was familiar and Raphael paused as he tried to place it. He realised there were hands on his shoulders even though all he could see was darkness. Someone took his side and he was gingerly tugged against a warm body.

He realised he wasn’t dreaming and quickly remembered he was now blind. 

It took him another moment to recognise the scent of the person beside him and when he did, he tensed.

“You okay?” Asked Sam quietly as Gabriel and Castiel rubbed their eyes tiredly and tried to work out what all the screaming was about.

Raphael didn’t respond for a few seconds but eventually nodded. Sam’s fingers reached out and slowly carded through his feathers, massaging the muscles and working out all the knots.

Raphael paused in surprise. That was... quite nice, actually.

He melted a little further into Sam’s side as the human’s hands worked magic on his abused wings. Castiel may have healed them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t remember the pain from them being carved up by scalpels and needles.

Sam rested his head on top of Raphael’s as he continued massaging the impressive wings and for the first time in… forever, Raphael felt a slither of hope blossom within his grace. Maybe these Winchesters weren’t so bad? Maybe they weren’t like other humans. Maybe they really did care.

He leaned into Sam’s touch, basking in the warmth of the human’s body. Sam gave perfect hugs with his strong arms and long body and Raphael could understand why Gabriel had admitted to enjoying his embraces a little more than he was probably supposed to.

“You want to talk about it?” Murmured Sam as Gabriel and Castiel’s eyes widened and they leaned forwards in concern. Dean’s mouth turned downwards unhappily.

Raphael shook his head and curled his fingers in the back of Sam’s shirt, focusing on his clean, woody scent and his gentle fingers. Sam held him a little tighter and the corner of Raphael’s mouth quirked upwards.

This felt... safe.

“You know we’ll never let anyone hurt you, right?” Whispered Sam. “We’ll protect you. Promise.”

Raphael nodded slowly. With Sam curled around him like this, he could almost believe that.

He focused on the steady thump of Sam’s heart and calmed his breathing, wings fanning a fraction wider for the young hunter’s fingers.

“You okay, Raph?” Asked Gabriel quietly and his older brother nodded, relaxing further into Sam.

“Would you like to go to bed?” Gabriel murmured and Raphael paused, contemplating his answer carefully before finally shaking his head a little uncertainly.

“I think…” He licked his lips. “I think I’d like to stay here. Just for a little.”

He was answered with silence but he felt Sam perk up a little and he was almost certain his brothers were smiling. Sam wormed one arm around his back as the other hand fussed with his wing and he said nothing as he was pulled further into the hunter’s side.

Dean watched his brother and their newest angel with a fond gaze before glancing at his watch and stretching. 

“Well, I’m off to bed,” he yawned. He flicked his gaze to Castiel and Gabriel. “You coming or are you staying down here for a bit?”

Both angels tilted their heads. “I think we’re gonna stay for a bit,” murmured Gabriel, giving Sam this warm, affectionate look as the younger hunter once again rested his chin on Raphael’s head.

Dean shrugged and waved half-heartedly before swivelling on his heel and padding up the stairs. Gabriel waited for him to go before he shuffled along the couch and leaned against Sam, tugging Castiel with him as he wrapped his wings around them all.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him and Gabriel smirked.

“We always sleep like this. You’re in the way.”

Sam chuckled quietly, shaking his head and Gabriel mewled in delight when the human slung an arm around him, pulling him closer.

The angle was awkward and the three-seater couch was nowhere near big enough for the four of them, but none of them cared as they settled down, Raphael and Gabriel enjoying Sam’s gentle petting as Castiel was just happy to be curled in three of Gabriel’s massive wings.

“Are angels always this cuddly?” Huffed Sam in amusement as he closed his eyes.

“Only with those we care for,” hummed Gabriel around a yawn.

Sam’s chest felt warm and tight. He squeezed Gabriel gently and was rewarded with the archangel’s arms snaking around his waist.

After a few minutes, he closed his eyes and drifted off into a restful sleep.

 

* * *

 

“We need to get Raphael a new collar.”

As soon as the words were out of Sam’s mouth, Raphael flinched and backed away from the hunter, betrayed. He tucked his wings behind his back and kept his head low, trying to prevent Sam from seeing how afraid he was. He knew this would happen. He knew reality would have to set in at some point. The Winchesters had been kind to him for nearly two weeks and now it was time for the pain and torture to return. He wondered if they would hurt Gabriel and Castiel too.

Sam noticed the archangel’s flinch and mentally cursed his bluntness. And they had been doing so well with getting him to trust them.

“Not like that, Raph. It’s just for when you go outside,” he said hurriedly before cursing himself again when the archangel winced and took another step backwards.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at the hunter.

“Calm down, bro. They mean you can’t go around without a collar because, one; it’s against the law and two; not only will Sam and Dean get into a lot of trouble, but you’ll also be sent for rehabilitation and trust me, that’s not a nice place to be. Don’t worry, they won’t actually activate the collars. It’ll just sort of… sit around your neck, like mine and Cassie’s.”

Raphael relaxed a little, tilting his wings curiously.

“And we won’t get you an archangel collar,” Sam said quickly. “We’ll get you something less powerful, like a witch’s collar. You can hide your wings, right?”

Raphael nodded cautiously. All angels and demons could hide their wings, but it took a lot of energy.

“You won’t have to wear it at home,” huffed Dean. “Just when we leave the house. It’ll be for protection instead of punishment.”

Raphael straightened and frowned in confusion.

“…Why are you being so kind to me?”

“’Cause you’re Cas and Gabe’s family,” explained Dean. “They told us what happened to you all and after seeing all the disgusting things that went on in that breeding facility, we promised to do all we could to reunite you guys. You don’t deserve to be put through that.”

Raphael cocked his head to one side. “…They told you everything about what happened to us?”

Dean made a sound of agreement.

“…Then you know there are two more of us?” Raphael asked quietly.

“Michael and Lucifer,” confirmed Sam. “We don’t know where they are but we’re waiting for an opportunity to break back into the breeding facility to check their records. Should be able to track them from their collar ID.”

Raphael licked his lips. “The last time I saw them was in the Texas breeding facility. We were moved there approximately twenty-five years ago. Last time I saw them was around seventeen years ago, in that facility.”

Sam and Dean glanced at one another before returning their focus to Raphael.

“Do you think they could still be there?” Asked Sam.

Raphael shrugged. “Maybe? Seventeen years is a long time.”

“It’s worth a shot,” decided Dean. “It’s the only lead we have and it’s safer than returning to the Kansas facility since it’ll be crawling with guards and cops after our rescue mission.”

Raphael perked up. “You’re really going to try to rescue our brothers?”

“We got you out, didn’t we?” Hummed Dean. “If you think there’s a chance they’re in Texas, we’ll take it.”

Raphael’s wings fluttered excited and Gabriel and Castiel glanced at the Winchesters hopefully. Sam and Dean’s gazes softened.

“Hey,” murmured Sam, “we promise we’ll find them, no matter what it takes.”

“But first, we need to buy a collar for Raph. We don’t want any added complications from the law,” huffed Dean. The angels nodded solemnly but it was obvious they were thrilled with the new plan.

As Sam and Dean threw on their coats, Raphael grabbed Sam’s arm clumsily.

“Thank you,” he said quietly and although his gaze was pale and unfocused, Sam could imagine the emotion that would have been held within them.

Sam squeezed his shoulder with a gentle smile and trotted out of the door.

 

* * *

 

The _‘One Stop Monster Shop’_ was a small corner store with every ‘accessory’ imaginable. It contained huge bird cages for phoenixes, training pads for werewolves, leads, muzzles, blood packs for vampires, herbal ingredients for witch magic, shackles, chains and many other useful and degrading items monster owners sought out. They also sold collars.

Dean glanced around the shop and curled his mouth in disgust when his eyes landed on a rack of teeth clippers for vampires and other creatures with fangs.

He turned away and approached the person behind the counter; a plump, bearded man with a scruffy pair of jeans and a hole-ridden shirt. He chewed idly on some gum as he eyed Sam and Dean.

“Hey, we’re looking for a witch collar,” said Dean trying to sound like he wasn’t repulsed by the shop and its owner. “Adult male. Fairly tall. Didn’t have a collar when we found him.”

“You know its size?” Grunted the owner, marking something down on a piece of paper.

“Eight, maybe?” Hummed Dean.

“You looking for a particular type? Chainmail’s just released a new high voltage collar. Starts at a higher setting and the failsafe’s activated at a higher sensitivity. You got a tricky witch?” Asked the owner gruffly as he ambled over to a glass cabinet beside the till. Inside was a range of collars in different colours, some with the word ‘NEW’ printed onto their price tags. Each collar had a brief description of its function and abilities displayed next to it. One read: _**‘Model HS7. Highest sensitivity with increased starting voltage. Great for disobedient monsters. $150.’**_

Sam made a face as Dean shook his head.

“Price is too steep,” he lied. “Bog standard, black collar will be fine.”

The owner shrugged and shuffled off into the back room. He shortly returned with the collar and its associated activator. 

“All set up. Just click it around the bugger’s neck and you’re good to go,” he grumbled. “That’ll be thirty dollars.”

Dean fished his wallet out of his jacket.

“Where is your monster anyway? You chain it up outside or something?”

Dean’s mouth drew into a thin line as he grabbed the money and placed it on the counter. “No. He’s at home.”

The owner snorted. “You trust it alone at home? I could never do that with mine. Too sly. One of those imps.”

An imp was a small creature with a fondness for tricks. It was noted as one of the ugliest creatures to possess as it looked like a malnourished fennec fox with long ears, leathery wings and its skin ranged from anything between purple and red-brown. It had no tail and when it stood on its hind legs, it walked with an off-putting hunch.

Sam frowned. “Then what do you do with yours?”

The owner pointed to a fish tank at the far end of the counter. Instead of water, a young imp huddled inside it, looking hot and on the brink of passing out. It pawed half-heartedly at the glass when it noticed Sam and Dean staring at it in horror.

“He… he doesn’t look too good,” murmured Sam, eyes wide and appalled. 

“She,” the owner snorted. “Ugly shits ain’t they?”

“That’s not what I meant,” scowled Sam. “She looks ill.” The creature had her mouth wide open as she panted, tongue lolling over her lips.

“Good. Hopefully it’ll die soon. Thing’s caused me nothing but trouble these past few months. It’s melted my shoes, made all my clocks go backwards, blew up my car… I hate the little bugger,” grumbled the owner as he eyed the creature filthily. “I’ve had to upgrade its collar. It’s costing me a fortune.”

Sam swallowed down his bile as Dean snatched his newly purchased collar off the counter with a little too much ferocity. 

“Well, I doubt she’s particularly fond of you when you keep her in a glass tank from nine to five,” drawled Dean. The owner frowned.

“You saying I’m training it wrong?”

“I’m saying you’re suffocating her,” growled Dean and the owner’s scowl deepened.

“Have a nice day, sir,” he said in clear dismissal and before Dean could start an argument, Sam ushered him out of the store, but not before they heard a muttered _“Freakin’ do-gooders.”_

When Dean and Sam returned home with the collar, the angels immediately sensed something was wrong.

“Dean?” Asked Castiel as the older Winchester stormed into the house and slammed the box on the coffee table. He stomped into the kitchen without taking his jacket off and Sam grimaced as he slid his own jacket off and slumped onto the couch between Gabriel and Raphael.

The angels turned to him curiously but just as Sam opened his mouth to explain, Dean stomped back into the room with a bottle of beer.

“Who keeps an imp in a fish tank?” He growled, startling the others. “It’s not a fish. It shouldn’t be suffocating and overheating in a glass tank.”

Castiel frowned. “You saw an imp being housed in a tank?”

“Collar shop owner said he couldn’t wait for it to die,” snarled Dean after he took a swig from his bottle. “Should put him in a tiny fish tank and see how he likes it. See how long it takes for him to die.”

Castiel’s gaze softened as Dean plopped onto the couch beside him. The hunter scrubbed a hand down his face as Castiel instinctively curled a wing around his shoulders in offer of comfort.

“How can people be so cruel?” Dean sighed. “Why can’t humans just treat you guys with respect? What’s the need for all this mindless abuse?”

Castiel’s lips quirked upwards. “Not all humans have had two angels harassing them long enough to force them to change their minds about the world.”

Dean blinked and huffed out a laugh before his smile faded and he turned to Castiel sadly.

“Cas… I’m so sorry, man. What we did… how we treated you at first… it was unacceptable. I’m surprised you don’t hate us. I'm surprised you haven't left, actually. There's nothing stopping you." He eyed the angel's collarless neck.

The seraph shook his head. “You’ve changed since then. You treat us with respect and generosity. You speak to us as equals. We don’t hate you. Far from it.”

“We don’t want to leave,” piped up Gabriel with a grin. “You are gonna keep us forever, right?”

Sam and Dean chuckled and the younger Winchester carded his fingers through Gabriel’s wings absent-mindedly. Dean watched the movement with a cocked eyebrow and turned to Castiel before Sam noticed.

“We’ll keep you as long as you want us to,” he murmured. “And you won’t have to worry about being shoved in a fish tank here.”

Castiel’s wing slid more securely around Dean and the older Winchester leaned into the seraph. He was growing accustomed to the angels’ tactile nature. It was actually rather soothing. He could feel his previous anger simmering down.

“Why did you hate monsters?” Asked Castiel curiously after a while. “Is it something human children are taught within the education system?”

Sam tensed and Dean’s eyes flashed with pain before he averted his gaze. He caught Gabriel shuffling closer to Sam, a mild frown marring his features as he squeezed the younger hunter’s arm reassuringly.

“I apologise,” said Castiel quickly. “If this is a sensitive subject, please disregard the- ”

“A demon killed our mom,” sighed Dean. “Werewolves got our dad.”

Gabriel and Castiel blinked. Raphael tilted his head.

“Your parents are…” Gabriel trailed off, eyes wide with realisation as a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. “Monsters killed your parents,” he mumbled. 

“They were part of the hunting unit, like us,” Dean explained quietly. “Mom adopted a demon and three years later, just when she thought she could trust it off a collar, it turned on her and slashed its blade through her throat. Mom was just trying to help it; believed the collars were becoming too barbaric and thought the demon was part of the family. I was four when that happened. Fast forward twenty-two years and Dad had become an alcoholic. He was so lost when Mom died and he… changed. Didn’t act the same with us. Kinda drilled us like soldiers instead of sons. We moved around a lot ‘cause Dad couldn’t keep a steady job, but he eventually found a position hunting in Florida. He went on duty drunk one evening and a pack of werewolves tore him up before he could even radio for help.” Dean stared at the floor, lost in thought.

“We’d moved out by then. Got tired of him treating us like crap. Came back to Kansas. Well, I did. Sammy was in Stanford by then, studying law.”

Gabriel turned to Sam in surprise. “You went to law school?”

Sam shrugged. 

“How’d you end up as a hunter?” Asked Gabriel. “Why not become a lawyer?”

“Dad always wanted me to be on the police. Thought law school was a waste of money. I went to piss him off, but in the end… I don’t know, when I heard he’d died, I just… fell into hunting. I’d already worked a few jobs with Dad and Dean when I was younger so it’s not like I didn’t know what to do.” Sam scowled at his lap. “Except apparently I didn’t know the job and we’ve both been doing it wrong for years.”

Gabriel’s hand slid from Sam’s arm to his back without the archangel seeming to realise what he was doing. He rubbed Sam’s back slowly and Sam leaned into him.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know,” murmured Gabriel.

Sam smiled weakly. “Not your fault I wasted three years of my life and money.”

“That’s why you were so resentful of anything non-human,” Castiel murmured in realisation. “They killed your family.”

“I guess,” huffed Dean. “Probably didn’t help when we adopted a couple of demons, despite my reservations,” he glared half-heartedly at Sam and the younger hunter ducked his head guiltily, “they tried to kill us too. Crept into our rooms one night and stole our weapons. Fortunately, we heard the collars buzz right before Lilith managed to stab me and Ruby tried to shoot Sam. It was a fight to remember. Ended up having to kill them both ‘cause they just wouldn’t stop. Got cut up pretty badly though and Sam managed to get a bullet lodged in his leg. It’s why we keep all our weapons on lockdown now.”

Gabriel paled as he glanced over at the older Winchester. “…So, when I tried to stab you that night…”

Raphael jerked in shock as Dean smiled humourlessly.

“Brought back a lot of memories. Thought it was gonna end in one of us dead.”

“Dean, I’m so- ”

Dean waved his hand dismissively. “You had good reason,” he interrupted. “We treated you like crap.” He closed his eyes, ashamed. “Sometimes I wonder if maybe it was our fault Ruby and Lilith…” He shook his head. “Probably was. Maybe if we’d treated them a little better, they’d still be alive.”

“Or maybe they wouldn’t,” shrugged Castiel when he recognised the first tendrils of self-loathing beginning to eat away at the hunter. “You said your mother tried to be kind to a demon and look what happened. Maybe Ruby and Lilith were the same.”

“You’re not,” Dean pointed out. “You mellowed out once we started being nicer to you.”

Castiel frowned.

“Yes, but we’re angels,” huffed Castiel. “It’s different.”

Dean choked back a laugh. “…Isn’t that a little prejudiced of you?”

Castiel’s feathers ruffled and even Gabriel and Raphael looked affronted.

“It’s a fact,” Castiel protested. “Angels are good and whilst I’m not narrow minded enough to believe all demons are evil, they certainly aren’t ‘forgiving’.”

Sam and Dean chewed their cheeks as grins threatened to overtake their faces.

“So, what? You think demons are beneath you or something?” Smirked Dean. “You’re more patient and intelligent and caring?”

“They are generally more violent than us,” frowned Castiel as Raphael and Gabriel nodded in agreement. “Their instinct is to destroy life, whereas ours is to preserve it.”

“So basically, you’re better than them?”

“We’re… of a different league.”

Sam and Dean burst out laughing and the angels startled and cocked their heads with small frowns, wondering what was so amusing.

“You disagree?” Huffed Castiel irritatedly. 

Dean grinned and shook his head. “Dude, you’ve just displayed the mindset of most humans towards monsters. You keep preaching respect and acceptance at us but you have your own prejudices and egos. You think you’re above demons because they’re different from you.”

Castiel blinked and glanced away when he felt his cheeks begin to heat.

“That’s different… Demons are… violent, hate-filled creatures. They’re not like us. You said yourself one tried to kill you.”

“So did Gabe,” smirked Dean. “And he’s an archangel.”

The angels’ feathers began to puff up in embarrassment. “Yes, but… he… you…”

“Face it guys; you’re being unfair. Demons should be treated with the same respect as you guys but because of millennia of hatred between your two species, you think you’re above them. You’re being exactly like the humans who think they’re above monsters. Exactly like your past owners.”

Castiel scowled and turned away, wings drooping in shame.

“Fine. It’s not like you’re perfect either,” he grumbled petulantly.

Dean grinned wide and amused. “Ain’t that the truth?”

When the angel refused to look at him, he slung an arm around his shoulders. “Cheer up, grumpy. I’m just teasing. Now, what do you want for lunch?”

He glanced at Raphael and Gabriel for suggestions and raised both eyebrows at the sight of Sam grooming Gabriel’s ruffled feathers into place, a grin pulling at his lips. The golden-wings archangel was pouting, face red in embarrassment as he mulled over Dean’s words, but he appeared to be enjoying Sam’s touches if the way his wings were leaning towards the hunter was anything to go by.

Sam rubbed the heel of his palm into the base of Gabriel’s largest wing and the archangel immediately relaxed, expression fading as his eyelids fluttered closed.

Dean wondered if Castiel would let him groom him like that. He quickly shook the thought from his mind.

“Bacon sandwiches?” Asked Raphael hopefully, appreciative of every meal he was offered.

Dean smiled. “Sure,” he said, chuckling when the archangel’s wings fluttered. Then he clicked his fingers as a thought struck him. “Hey, remind me to get you registered too. The boss is gonna think something’s fishy if he finds you’re staying with us but we only have an angel and trickster registered with us.”

Raphael nodded. “Witch, right?”

“You got it. I’ll go and make us some bacon sandwiches.”

 

* * *

 

The Texas breeding facility was twice the size of its sister in Kansas. It had six floors and looked less like a hangar and more like a prison. Guards were posted at the entrance and exit and an electric fence surrounded the area. There were no houses within at least a thirty-mile radius.

Being blind, Raphael was too much of a liability to bring with them, so the Winchesters had left him at home with Charlie and her monsters for company; Anna (whom she’d officially adopted) and a demon by the name of Meg (whom Raphael had initially tensed upon meeting but had eventually relaxed upon realising she was more bark than bite).

With the electric fence hindering their entrance, Castiel and Gabriel easily flew over the top and knocked the guards out with two fingers to the back of their heads. The guards slumped to the floor gracelessly and with masks concealing their faces from the CCTV cameras, they unlocked the gate for the Winchesters to join them.

Dean shot out the cameras on the way in and the moment they entered the facility using the fallen guards’ key cards, Gabriel and Castiel felt the warding weaken their powers.

The plan was almost identical to the plan they had made in Kansas, only this time, they had an idea what they were going into.

However, before they could make it to the main area of the facility, two heavily armed guards burst through the door and began yelling orders at the four.

“Freeze!” One shouted as they both aimed their machine guns at Sam and Dean.

“Hands behind your heads!” The other barked and the Winchesters and their angels were forced to comply.

“On your knees!” The first one demanded.

The four slowly dropped to their knees, Sam and Dean wondering how fast they could snatch the guns from their pockets.

“Masks off!” Growled the second guard, jabbing his gun in their direction.

“Wait a second, fellas,” drawled Dean as the guards approached them, but he was cut off when the first guard jerked the barrel of his gun into his face, pain blossoming in his jaw.

“Shut up,” the guard snarled. “Masks off!”

Dean grunted and made to rub his jaw but the guard hit him again, harder this time and Dean felt blood well in his cheek. He groaned in pain and the guard stretched out a hand to yank off his ski mask.

Suddenly, Gabriel threw his wings out and the guards froze, staring at the six appendages in shock as they worked out what type of creature he was. Before they could make a grab at him, Castiel bounced to his feet and swung his fist at the first one’s face and the guard staggered, yelping when the seraph slammed a wing into him.

The second guard turned to shoot Castiel but Sam wrestled him into a headlock and Gabriel slid the gun from his grip. Castiel smashed his wing into the first one once more and snatched the gun from him when he stumbled.

“On the floor!” Snapped Sam, pointing the machine gun at them as Dean crawled to his feet.

The guards glanced at one another before returning their attention to Sam and Castiel, who flared his wings intimidatingly. They slowly dropped to the floor.

Sam and Castiel smashed the butts of their guns into the guards’ heads.

Certain they were unconscious, the group continued on their mission and removed their masks, Castiel falling into step with Dean.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked worriedly as Dean spat out a disgusting mixture of blood and saliva.

The older hunter nodded.

“Peachy. Let’s find your brothers.”

When Sam and Gabriel marched up to the control room, there was a staff member waiting for them, obviously having seen their arrival on the monitors. He fired a gun at them the second Sam barged into the room, but Gabriel shielded the hunter with three wings, his primary wing taking the hit.

He grunted in pain and when Sam spotted the red liquid trickling down the beautiful golden feathers, his fury racketed up three notches and he launched himself towards the staff member, throwing his fist into his stomach and face over and over until the man crumpled in agony. With one last kick to the head, the man blacked out.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the panting hunter but said nothing when Sam sat down at the main terminal and began scouring the database for Michael and Lucifer’s collar codes. They didn’t have much time.

Dean and Castiel sprinted through the maze of cells, dodging guards who were slowly beginning to catch on that something was wrong. They raced to the sixth floor, assuming the layout of high risk, medium risk and low risk monsters would be similar to the floor plan in Kansas and Dean grabbed his radio from his belt.

“Any time now, Sam,” he huffed and his brother was quick to respond.

“Cells F45 and F50 contain archangels. F45 is male.”

Behind them, Dean could hear a couple of staff members storming up the stairs after them.

Dean and Castiel ducked into a row of cells, losing sight of the staff and they sped through the corridor, monsters trapped there staring at them in surprise. Some monsters began to whisper to one another through the glass, wondering what was going on and when they spotted Castiel’s raven wings tucked close to his back to decrease air resistance as he ran, they slowly began to catch on. They’d heard the guards murmuring about the disaster in the Kansas breeding facility. They knew about the extra security measures their own facility had implemented against these mystery ‘do-gooders’. 

Some monsters started to grin, perking up in excitement as others pressed themselves against the front of the glass, desperate to be released.

Some monsters realised they needed to prevent the mystery rescuers from being caught and they began fighting against the warding and their own collars; summoning weapons or using small bursts of magic just to set off the alarms on their cells, thereby distracting the staff members.

Dean smirked as whole rows of cells blared with alarms and Castiel glanced around in surprise at the renewed hope within these creatures. The creatures within the Kansas breeding facility had been so lost and despairing; ready to die, but these monsters were far more upbeat; brimming with determination and the will to fight. He hadn’t realised the chaos they’d caused in Kansas would result in this.

Dean suddenly tugged on his arm and he whipped his head around to stare where Dean was pointing.

Cell F45.

Pale blue eyes narrowed at them, distrusting before they widened when they recognised Castiel.

“Lucifer!” Blurted Castiel as he scrambled towards the cell.

“…Castiel?” Breathed the bronze-winged archangel in shock as Dean fumbled for his deactivator and radio.

“Sam! Open F45!” He ordered as he jabbed at his deactivator, scowl deepening at the sound of guards yelling to each other to “Find those intruders!”

Lucifer startled as his collar clicked open and he gingerly pulled it from his neck, jumping again when the cell door slid open. Castiel dragged him out of his cell, turning his nose up in disgust at the shackles that had fallen away from his wrists and ankles once his collar had been deactivated.

“Let’s go!” Barked Dean, heading towards the stairs.

Lucifer pulled his arm out of Castiel’s grip.

“I’m not leaving without my son,” he growled.

Castiel and Dean froze and stared at the archangel, stunned. They watched as he whirled on his heel and half-limped, half-ran towards another row of cells, tattered and grimy wings stiff behind him.

They glanced at one another and rushed after him.

“Your son?” Asked Castiel in disbelief, skidding to a halt when Lucifer stopped at cell F90. 

Inside, cowered a frightened eight-year-old. His eyes glowed yellow in fear and four wings patterned like an amber stone trembled behind him. He pressed into the corner of his cell upon seeing Dean.

Castiel blinked at the child. Four wings? No angel had four wings.

“Jack,” said Lucifer softly and the child’s gaze snapped to him, eyes round. He scrambled to the front of his cell, plastering himself to its front.

“Father!” He yelped.

“Sam! Open F90!” Yelled Dean as he watched a guard race into their row and sprint down the corridor towards them.

He deactivated the child’s collar and shackles and dragged the boy out of the cell the second the door slipped open.

Lucifer snarled at him but Dean ignored him and pulled his mask back on before dragging the kid towards the stairs, the guard hot on their tails.

“One of them is in the control room!” The guard snapped into his radio and Dean’s heart sunk. He hoped his brother and Gabriel could defend themselves.

Once they reached the staircase, Dean gulped. Two guards were holding rifles, waiting for them. He cursed and skidded to a stop as the guards aimed their weapons at them.

The guards pulled their triggers.

Dean yelped as the ground flew away from his feet, the child in his arms yanked from his grip.

He twisted his head to find Castiel above him, wings outstretched as they soared over the rails of the sixth floor, Lucifer and Jack beside them.

Just when Dean dared to hope they could escape, Lucifer’s wings flapped desperately and he nose dived towards the bottom floor, his clipped wings unable to sustain his flight. Castiel shouted in distress as they watched the archangel plummet six stories and they plunged after him, stomachs dropping at the sight of the guards poised on the bottom floor, ready to fire.

A flash of gold appeared beneath them and suddenly, Lucifer was air-borne again, panting raggedly as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

“I’ve got you, bro,” winked Gabriel and Lucifer gaped at his little brother as Jack, Castiel and Dean caught up.

“You stink by the way,” chirped Gabriel as he surged towards the exit, nodding at Sam as he rattled down the stairs from the control room, a guard not too far behind him.

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak but found no words came to him, so he quickly snapped it shut again.

Their feet hit the ground as they came to the doorway and Dean flashed their stolen key card at the electronic panel. A bullet ricocheted off the heavy-duty door and the group flinched, slipping out of the room once the gap was big enough.

They raced out of the facility, piling into the Impala to the background sounds of seven guards stomping after them. Dean floored the accelerator as a bullet shattered the rear window.

“Son of a bitch!” He snarled, the tyres struggling to grab a purchase on the grassy floor, but once they did, the Impala jerked forwards, speeding away from the facility.

Castiel glanced behind them and noticed a lack of creatures escaping from the facility. He frowned in confusion and turned to Sam, opening his mouth to ask where the freed monsters were, only to be greeted by Sam's pained expression.

"...There wasn't enough time," whispered Sam and a sorrowful silence fell within the car.

It later occurred to them they would have to change the Impala's license plate.


	13. Chapter 13

Lucifer was silent the entire journey home. He pulled Jack into his chest and held him there as the boy drifted off to sleep, petting his wings gently and nosing at his hair. Gabriel and Castiel desperately wanted to talk to him; to ask him what had happened over these past years, how he got Jack, how he was feeling, but when it was clear the older archangel wasn’t in the mood for talking, they chewed the insides of their cheeks and forced themselves to remain quiet. In all honesty, they were rather disheartened by the fact Lucifer apparently didn’t want to talk to them after so long apart.

Dean and Sam kept shooting all four angels these worried glances through the rear-view mirror but refused to say anything in case it spooked Lucifer or Jack.

The ride home was tense.

When they finally staggered back into the house nearing midnight, the Winchesters smiled at the sight of Charlie asleep on the couch, cocooned in Anna’s wings as the angel sprawled over her chest.

On the opposite couch sat Raphael and Meg, conversing softly. To Gabriel and Castiel’s surprise, their brother had curled a wing around the demon, his lips tugged upwards in an affectionate smile as Meg smirked back gently, one finger teasing circles over his thigh. She was propped against his shoulder, listening to him talk and her snowy tail snaked around his ankle, making him chuckle. She brushed her white, leathery wings against the feathered one he’d wrapped around her and he ducked his head almost shyly, making her smirk widen. Their conversation trailed off and they glanced upwards at Sam and Dean as the pair stumbled further into the house, the angels not far behind.

Meg cocked an eyebrow. “Who are the new recruits?”

“Ah, Lucifer and his son, Jack,” introduced Dean but before Meg could say anything else, Raphael straightened excitedly, wings bouncing.

“Luci? Is it really you?”

The older archangel tensed as Charlie and Anna blinked awake sleepily.

“Yes,” he said curtly, making no move to approach his long-lost brother. He narrowed his eyes, gaze darting around the room and the Winchesters had a feeling he was looking for an escape route.

Raphael frowned and stood from the couch.

“…Where are you?” He asked quietly, obviously expecting some form of contact from his brother, but Lucifer remained rooted to the spot, scrutinising Raphael’s pale eyes for a moment before turning a hate-filled gaze towards the Winchesters as he tugged a tired Jack closer to him.

He said nothing and Raphael’s scowl thickened.

Castiel glanced over his older brother’s battered body, taking in the damaged wings, old and new scars, ugly bruises and filthy skin and robe. His wings drooped and he took a step forward, stretching out his hand.

“Brother, let me heal you,” he murmured, reaching for the taller angel, but Lucifer suddenly backed up, dragging Jack with him.

“We’re fine,” he said sharply.

Castiel paused, eyes widening in a combination of surprise and hurt.

Charlie’s gaze flicked between the pair before she subtly gestured for Anna and Meg to stand.

“I’ll… see you soon, guys,” she murmured, patting Dean’s shoulder as she edged towards the door and Dean nodded at her in gratitude.

Lucifer watched the three women leave before snapping his narrowed gaze to the Winchesters. He tightened his grip slightly on Jack and the young boy burrowed deeper into his side, clearly confused and fearful at his father’s tenseness.

“You’re hurt,” said Castiel quietly, throat dry. “I can- ”

“I’m fine,” Lucifer snapped and Castiel quickly recoiled, backing off. Gabriel placed a comforting hand on Castiel’s wing and the seraph leaned into him gratefully.

“No one’s gonna hurt you here, Luci,” promised Gabriel, tone careful. “The Winchesters are good; they’ll protect you. You’re safe now. I promise.”

Lucifer eyed the door. “Right.”

Gabriel’s mouth clicked shut. He’d assumed reuniting with his brothers would end in smiles, hugs, tears of relief and them all vowing to never leave one another’s sides again. He hadn’t accounted for Lucifer not trusting them. He’d known there was a possibility of his brothers having changed, but he hadn’t really thought about how big of a change they may have undergone. Now, he was unsure what to do.

“Are you hungry?” Sam tried cautiously and when he saw Jack’s wings twitch in interest (he was becoming well-versed in ‘wing speak’), he plastered on what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“How about I fix you something to eat? Dean, you can make drinks for everyone.”

Dean blinked but quickly caught onto his brother’s line of thinking. Maybe with them out of the room, Lucifer would relax.

They shuffled off into the kitchen, leaving Lucifer alone with his brothers and son.

“It’s good to see you again,” offered Gabriel. “It’s been so long.” He stepped forwards, opening his wings carefully in invitation.

Lucifer frowned and raised his wings in clear warning for Gabriel to back off.

Gabriel felt his heart crack and he sought out Castiel’s wing again, this time for his own comfort.

“Luci, what… happened?” Whispered Raphael, wings beginning to twitch at the tension between them all. This wasn’t the reunion he’d been expecting either.

“Humans. Humans happened,” Lucifer bit out angrily, feathers puffing out and Castiel and Gabriel took an involuntary step backwards, lowering their gazes in submission. They weren’t sure what had happened to Lucifer, but this was not the brother they remembered.

“Do you… do you want to sit down?” Asked Castiel warily and Lucifer eyed the couch before flicking his gaze back to the door.

“No.”

His brothers slumped and silence fell between them, no one sure how to approach the distrusting archangel.

After a few minutes, Lucifer’s mouth drew into a thin line and he frowned at his brothers.

“None of you have collars,” he stated.

They shook their heads. “Sam and Dean detest them,” explained Castiel. “Even when we’re forced to wear them outside, they’re deactivated.”

Lucifer appeared confused by this but his gaze eventually tracked to the door again. “Then why don’t you just leave?”

“We don’t want to,” said Gabriel simply. “We’d only be captured again and then we’d risk being bought by someone who likes to hurt us. Besides, Sam and Dean are our friends. They’re kind and they treat us like equals. We don’t want to leave because, well… we like them.”

Lucifer pulled a face and Gabriel slumped slightly at the disgust in his expression.

“Humans aren’t your _‘friends’_. You’re their slaves,” sneered Lucifer. “They may be nicer than the other masters you’ve had, but they’ll never see you as their equals.”

“I thought so too,” piped up Raphael. “When I first came here, I believed the Winchesters were going to use and abuse me, but that’s not the case. They have treated me like they would any guest. We have freedom within their home. We’re not slaves here. In fact, they’re curious about our culture. They want us to be happy here.”

“When we told them what had happened to our family, where we came from and how we got separated, the Winchesters were quick to make a plan to rescue you. They promised they would do whatever it took to save you and Raph and Mikey from whatever fate had become of you,” Gabriel informed.

Lucifer crossed his arms and glanced around the room. “Then where is Michael?”

“We’re working on it,” Gabriel said weakly and Lucifer snorted and edged towards the door, tugging his son with him.

“Please don’t leave, brother,” breathed Castiel. “We’ve dreamed about this day for years. We just want our family together again.”

Finally, Lucifer paused, expression dimming into something more pained and heartbroken. It hardened quickly as he glanced at the seraph.

“Then come with me. Run away with me. We can be a family away from the humans.”

The kitchen was suspiciously quiet and both Gabriel and Castiel knew Dean and Sam were waiting for their answer. They also knew the Winchesters wouldn’t stop them if they chose to leave.

Gabriel’s wings sagged as he shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry brother, but we won’t leave them… They’re family too.”

Lucifer clenched his jaw before he eyed Raphael sharply. “And what about you, Raphael? Are you staying here too or will you come with me?”

Raphael hesitated. He thought about all humans had done to him; the slicing and the carving of his skin; forcing him to breed; injecting him with chemicals until he was permanently blind; the beatings when he misbehaved. Then he thought about these past three weeks, curled up beside his brothers in a too-small bed but it didn’t matter because they were all together. He thought about the night Sam had held him, chasing away his nightmares as he petted his wings. He thought about the delicious meals Dean made and the relaxing movie evenings they partook in when Sam and Dean weren’t working. 

If he was ever going to have a shot at being truly happy, it was here.

He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Luci. I like it here. I think… I think I could be happy here.”

For a brief second, Lucifer looked devastated, but he quickly straightened and nodded tightly.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. They’ll have you in chains soon enough.” He wrapped his hand around the door handle.

“Lucifer- ” Castiel began, distressed.

“I won’t be their slave again!” Snapped Lucifer, shutting the seraph up. “I don’t want that life for Jack either.” He opened the door.

“Wasn’t sure what you like so I made some chicken salad sandwiches and some cheese ones,” interrupted Sam as he returned to the living room, pretending he’d not heard any of the previous conversation. He placed a large tray of sandwiches on the coffee table then cast his glance to Lucifer, raising an eyebrow in feigned surprise.

“Everything okay? You need some air? I can open a window if you like?”

Lucifer slowly closed the door and Sam caught the other three angels breathe out soft sighs of relief.

“Dig in,” smiled Sam as though he hadn’t planned to interrupt the older archangel’s rushed escape. Dean soon trudged into the room with a tray of teas, coffees and two hot chocolates (for Gabriel and Jack).

The older archangel pursed his lips but couldn’t deny he was hungry and when Jack perked up and trotted over to the food, he had no choice but to follow. He gingerly grabbed a sandwich and sniffed at it as if it was poisoned and when he took his first bite, Dean plopped onto the opposite couch and decided to be blunt.

“You don’t have to stay here,” he began and Lucifer’s head snapped up, eyes narrowed at the human. “But we suggest you do until you heal. If you leave now, you’re not gonna get very far when the cops shoot you down. The Texas facility will have informed the police and the government they’re missing a highly dangerous archangel and the whole country will probably be on alert. The best thing you can do right now is lay low until the next big Kardashian scandal takes the spotlight away from you.”

Lucifer’s wings bristled. “And why should I trust you, ape? You just want me to stay here so I can work for you. Give it enough time, you’ll probably ask me to present my ass for your limp little- ”

“Okay, one; Gabriel and Castiel have been with us for months now. Do they look abused to you?” Growled Dean. He understood Lucifer had been through a lot but he was exhausted and a little appreciation for risking their necks and breaking the archangel out would have been nice. He’d had a lot of guns aimed at him today. “And two; no one’s gonna ask you to sexually pleasure them, man. I don’t even swing that way.” A little voice at the back of his head called him a liar, but he ignored it.

Lucifer glanced between both Winchesters distrustingly before chewing on his sandwich.

“And what happens when you get tired of paying for us, hm? What happens when you get tired of wasting your money on us? Do we get thrown away like mongrels? Taken to the vets and put down? We’re a novelty at the moment, but you’ll soon grow bored of us.”

“Gabriel and I can get jobs,” piped up Castiel quickly before Dean had a chance to respond. “We can help to pay the bills.”

Dean frowned. “Cas, we’re not asking you to do that.”

“We live here too,” the seraph pointed out. “We should contribute something.”

“You’ve patched me and Sam up more times than we count. Gabe cooks for us more often than not,” Dean protested. “You help us out on hunts. You two contribute enough.”

“None of that helps with the food or water or electricity bills. We can’t snap up money,” Castiel insisted.

“No, but you do snap up food occasionally,” Sam said. “Definitely reduces the food bills when you don’t, y’know, have to buy any food.”

Castiel frowned. “Please. Allow us to return your generosity. You shouldn’t have to pay for us all the time.”

“Guys- ”

“Look, if we have our own income, it means we can spend anything spare on frivolities we might like to buy ourselves,” reasoned Gabriel. “It also means we can surprise you with gifts, as tokens of our appreciation for all that you’ve done for us.” He winked at Sam, smirking unabashedly and although the comment and gesture were lost on Sam and Dean, Castiel’s cheeks flushed pink as he averted his gaze. The Winchesters looked between the smirking archangel and the shy seraph and decided not to ask.

“I mean… if it’s something you guys really want to do, we won’t stop you. But don’t feel obliged to give us money. Like we said, you’re not slaves,” said Sam.

Gabriel and Castiel nodded in understanding before shifting their attention to Lucifer, who had been watching the exchange in silence with varying degrees of curiousness and surprise. His gaze lingered on Gabriel a fraction too long and the younger archangel’s mouth curled upwards into a lopsided smirk as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Lucifer blinked, startled, glanced at Sam and then stared at his lap, confused.

After a few moments, he glanced at Gabriel once more and cocked his head to one side.

“Brother, you have a bullet in your wing.”

Gabriel arched his left primary wing into his field of vision and frowned mildly at the feathers tacky with blood. “I do.”

“Crap,” cursed Sam, suddenly leaping into action as he bustled upstairs to retrieve the first aid kit. Dean startled and stared at his brother in bewilderment.

“Sam, wait. It’s just a regular- ” Already gone.

Gabriel smiled in amusement and waited patiently for the younger Winchester to return. Once he did, first aid kit already opened, he plucked the bullet out of his own wing and Sam sagged as he watched the skin heal over, new feathers appearing to cover up the bald patch. He felt his face heat in embarrassment as he stared at the tweezers and suture material in his hand.

“Not an angel-killing bullet, kiddo. Glad to know you have my back though,” Gabriel winked, grin in place as Sam packed away the first aid kit, gaze low.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right, yeah. Sorry.”

Gabriel tossed the bullet to Sam. “You can make that into a necklace if you want,” he hummed before staring at Lucifer pointedly.

The older archangel looked genuinely curious about the Winchesters now and his anger had definitely dimmed down. He stroked a hand over Jack’s wings absent-mindedly.

“…You won’t make us wear a collar inside the house?” He finally asked, glancing at the Winchesters.

Sam and Dean shook their heads.

“And you’re not going to lock us up in the basement and turn us into an archangel breeding farm?”

Sam and Dean grimaced and shook their heads quickly.

“…Fine. We’ll stay. For a short while. The second I think my son or I are in danger, we’re hightailing out of here,” huffed Lucifer, snatching another sandwich.

“Got it,” nodded Dean, lips quirking upwards at Castiel, Gabriel and Raphael’s thrilled grins.

“We’re gonna have to work out sleeping arrangements,” Sam realised, turning to his brother. “We don’t have enough beds.”

Dean pulled a face. “I suppose if we sleep in the same bed, that leaves a spare double until we get something more permanent sorted out.”

Sam turned his nose up at the idea of having to sleep with his brother. Still, if it was the only option they had…

“We’ll sleep on the couch,” said Lucifer abruptly, catching everyone off-guard.

“Dude, it’s fine. You can take the spare double,” offered Sam but Lucifer shook his head firmly.

“We’ll sleep downstairs,” he insisted, glancing at the door and the Winchesters immediately understood. He may have agreed to stay with them for a little while, but that didn’t mean he trusted them.

“Okay. If that’s what you want. But if you change your mind, don’t be afraid to ask,” said Sam gently.

Lucifer nodded stiffly and shifted his focus to his son. He petted his hair lightly before carding his fingers through his wings.

“I’ve never heard of an angel with four wings,” said Castiel quietly and immediately Lucifer stiffened and turned a cold gaze upon the seraph.

“Is that going to be a problem, brother?”

Castiel dropped his gaze, clamping his mouth shut. He was hurt Lucifer thought so little of him.

He leaned into Gabriel gratefully when the archangel buried a hand in his feathers, tugging and massaging soothingly.

“It was just an observation,” Castiel murmured, unwilling to meet the older angel’s glare.

“Keep them to yourself,” Lucifer growled as he returned to his son.

Jack chewed happily on his fourth sandwich as the adults settled into a tense silence.

 

* * *

 

Three days later and Lucifer’s trust issues weren’t getting better. The Winchesters had expected the archangel to be wary of them but what surprised them most was Lucifer’s determination to keep his brothers at arm’s distance. He’d even growled when Gabriel got too close to Jack one afternoon whilst the kid was trying to reach a book off the top shelf of the bookcase. 

Lucifer’s attitude was clearly draining the happiness from the other three adult angels and in all honesty, it was starting to piss Sam off. What right did Lucifer have to make Gabriel, Castiel and Raphael upset in their own home? He understood Lucifer had been through a lot of stuff he wasn’t willing to talk about but taking it out on his own brothers wasn’t the answer.

He focused on the pie he was making; blueberry and raspberry and smiled at himself. He seemed to have picked up Gabriel’s coping mechanisms. Whenever he was stressed, he found himself baking (Dean was very pleased about his brother’s new hobby) and more often than not, Gabriel wasn’t too far away, chuckling and teasing Sam about how he was ‘rubbing off on him’ (all innuendos intended).

He paused when he heard soft voices from the living room. So far, Gabriel and Lucifer had exchanged a handful of words this morning and even they had served to increase tensions between the pair. 

“If Gabriel is your brother, does that make him my uncle?” Asked Jack curiously and there was a pause before Lucifer cleared his throat.

“Yes. It does.”

“And Raphael and Castiel… they’re my uncles too?”

“Yes.”

Another pause. “You, Uncle Gabriel and Uncle Raphael all have six wings, but Uncle Castiel only has two.” Sam could hear the frown in Jack’s tone and it made his lips quirk upwards.

Lucifer hesitated for a moment before replying with an uncomfortable “Correct.”

“…Then why do I have four?”

There was a loaded silence before Lucifer spoke again. “Because you’re special,” he said, forcing a smile. “Unique.”

“…And that’s a good thing?” Frowned Jack, confused.

“Of course it is. It’s always good to be unique,” hummed Lucifer, skirting around his son’s original question. He ruffled Jack’s hair playfully and Jack swatted at his hand before accepting the answer and glancing at Gabriel.

“So, Uncle Gabriel… where were you before the Winchesters found you? Uncle Castiel told me he worked in a care home for old and sick humans. What did you do?” Jack’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and Gabriel paused, wondering if he should make up a lie or tell the truth.

Suddenly, Lucifer squeezed Jack’s shoulder, rebuffing him. “That’s not appropriate, Jack,” he said. “Gabriel’s past is none of our business.”

Jack ducked his head guiltily and Gabriel shrugged. “No, bro, it’s cool. He can ask. I don’t mind.”

Lucifer shot him a harsh glare and Gabriel clamped his mouth shut.

“It’s not appropriate,” Lucifer repeated and Gabriel caught the double meaning. Lucifer didn’t want him admitting to his past because he didn’t want Jack to learn anything that might offend or horrify him. Lucifer was only trying to protect his son but Gabriel wasn’t entirely sure if keeping secrets from him was the best way to do that. Surely Jack should learn about the world he lived in? How monsters were treated and spoken to? Wouldn’t it be best to warn him first, before he had to experience first-hand?

“But if Uncle Gabriel doesn’t mind, surely it can’t be inappropriate,” reasoned Jack before swivelling his head towards the younger archangel eagerly.

“I said ‘no’, Jack,” huffed Lucifer and when the child dropped his gaze, looking disappointed and upset, Gabriel tilted his head.

“I can tell a PG version?” He offered.

“What part of _‘no’_ don’t you understand?” Snapped Lucifer, making Gabriel recoil in shock at the hostility. Even Jack flinched at the tone.

Lucifer glanced down at him apologetically and petted a small wing. “I’m sorry. Hey, why don’t you grab a book and I’ll read to you?”

Jack immediately perked up, questions forgotten and he nodded excitedly before hopping off the couch and racing to the bookshelf in the corner of the room.

Lucifer cast his cold glare towards Gabriel.

“Don’t ever undermine me in front of my son like that again,” he muttered lowly, threateningly before plastering on an affectionate smile when Jack bounded over to him with _‘The Wind in the Willows’_ clutched to his chest. He hopped onto the seat beside his father and wriggled into his side, grinning when three huge bronze wings settled around him like a blanket. Content, Jack slid his arms around his father’s waist and fell silent as Lucifer opened up the book, eyes wide and fascinated as Lucifer began reading quietly to him.

Gabriel slipped out of the room, fists clenched in frustration and wings stiff with hurt. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, squeezing his eyes shut as he attempted to calm his emotions. This wasn’t the Lucifer he remembered. This wasn’t the sarcastic, sly, caring brother he knew.

“Gabe?”

Gabriel’s eyes flew open and he stared at Sam in surprise. He’d forgotten the human was in here.

“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, forcing a weak smile. “What’s cooking?”

“Blueberry and raspberry pie,” hummed Sam before he frowned worriedly. “…Are you alright?”

Gabriel pushed himself away from the door and shoved his hands into his pockets nonchalantly. “Happier than a pig in mud. What about you, Samsquatch? What are you doing baking pies at three in the afternoon on your day off? You didn’t lose another bet to Dean, did you?”

Sam shook his head and returned to his mixing bowl, picking up his whisk once more. Gabriel padded after him for lack of anything better to do.

“You don’t have to lie, Gabe,” Sam murmured after a few moments. “I heard what he said to you.”

Gabriel sagged, wings drooping low behind his back. “…How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know you’re angry and frustrated and have no idea what you did wrong,” mumbled Sam. “You didn’t, by the way. Do anything wrong, I mean.”

Gabriel slumped against the counter beside Sam, eyes closed wearily. “He obviously believes differently.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a dick,” huffed Sam before he could stop himself.

Gabriel snorted humourlessly. “Hey, watch it. He’s still my brother.”

“Sorry,” murmured Sam before he abandoned his latest project and turned to face his friend instead. “Hey, come on… don’t let him get you down. You didn’t say anything wrong. Although I am curious how you were going to explain you were a hooker with a pimp in PG terms.”

Gabriel managed his first genuine huff of amusement. “Lots of convoluted metaphors and holes in the plot line.”

Sam offered him a lopsided grin. “People paid you for some of your bratwurst but your butcher had to accompany you to ensure you gave the customer enough meat?”

Gabriel’s laughter rang out through the room and it was the first time in three days Sam had seen the archangel smile like that. Something fluttered in his chest and something swelled with pride a little distance below it. He’d put that expression on Gabriel’s face.

Gabriel grinned at Sam. “I was thinking something more along the lines of ‘People paid me for my hammer and my boss tagged along to make sure I nailed the job,’” he winked and Sam felt his own grin blossoming.

“I bet you’re a real handyman with that power drill of yours,” teased Sam and Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows obscenely.

“It’s one of those special eight inches,” he smirked and Sam bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

“Diamond tip?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Gabriel purred.

Sam laughed and felt Gabriel relax beside him. Talking to the archangel was so easy and it calmed his anxiousness to practically nil. He was pleased to see he seemed to have the same effect on Gabriel. The archangel looked to have forgotten his earlier frustration.

Still, his wings were a little ruffled.

“Turn around,” Sam ordered as he quickly washed his hands and Gabriel cocked an eyebrow before the hunter made a swirling motion with one finger. Curious, Gabriel faced the counter and startled when Sam buried his hands deep into his wings.

The younger Winchester began massaging the huge appendages, manipulating the joints and raking his nails over touch-starved skin and Gabriel groaned gutturally, melting into the warm palms. Sam tugged on feathers and plucked out damaged or loose ones and wasn’t shy about grooming him, fingers pressing and rubbing and working away aches he hadn’t even realised he had.

Gabriel’s knuckles where white as he gripped the counter, trying to keep himself upright and he spread his wings wide, giving Sam easier access to all six.

“Harder,” groaned Gabriel and Sam snorted in amusement as he massaged the muscles more firmly, watching the wings lean further into his touch.

Gabriel caught onto his own double entendre and smirked. “Deeper,” he moaned ridiculously. “Come on, Sam, I can take it.”

Sam chuckled and slid his hands to the bases of Gabriel’s wings, manipulating the joints and rubbing their thick muscles. After a few moments, he dug the heels of his palms into Gabriel’s back, where feathers met skin and Gabriel’s knees gave out at the pleasurable sensations. He caught himself and Sam laughed quietly, increasing the pressure on his back muscles.

“I don’t think you can take it,” Sam teased and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Shut up and rub.”

Sam snorted again at the double entendre and Gabriel closed his eyes and pressed into the human’s hands. This was the most amazing thing he’d ever felt.

They slipped into a comfortable silence only interrupted by Gabriel’s soft groans of approval whenever Sam hit a particularly tense spot. Sam began to wonder how touch-starved this archangel really was. Had he ever only been touched by people who wanted to hurt him or abuse him? Customers, masters, even the police… Had he really had such little pleasurable contact with others before coming to the Winchesters? If Gabriel’s current reactions were anything to go by, Sam would guess a big, fat ‘Yes’.

After a few minutes, Sam pulled away from Gabriel’s back and began carding his fingers gently through the feathers, grooming them back into place and smoothing them down.

Gabriel’s breaths were deep and content now and his eyes closed as he focused on Sam’s petting. Sam took the opportunity to look over the beautiful wings.

The top ones, the primaries, were the largest, lifting high above Gabriel’s shoulders only to soar back down and graze the floor. The ones below them, the secondaries, were slightly smaller, following the course of the primaries but only just brushing the swell of his calves. The tertiary wings were smaller still, rising sharply to his shoulders and dipping to the start of his thighs.

The feathers were light and silky although the larger ones were tougher and a little coarser. Each feather shone with brilliant golds and yellows and browns that could only be seen up close and gave the overall impression of the wings being a solid gold when observing them from a distance. The wings were probably the most gorgeous thing Sam had ever seen.

He carefully turned Gabriel around and began work on the insides of the wings and once again, Gabriel groaned and closed his eyes, spreading his wings a little wider for Sam to play with.

Sam found his eyes tracing Gabriel’s body. The archangel was a lot shorter than him, barely reaching his shoulder. Still, he wasn’t a bad build and his time at the Winchester house had certainly given him some weight and muscle compared to the skinny, undernourished slip of a thing he’d been when Dean had found him in that cell. His stomach was soft but his arms were hard and strong and Sam knew working hunts with them had done that to the archangel. His skin was tanned and healthy-looking from spending so much time outside, both in the garden and on hunts and although he was a fair few years older than Sam, the worry lines and creases of his face had smoothed out over the past few months and he looked younger, more vibrant than he had originally. Even his hair looked better, less greasy.

“See something you like?” Murmured Gabriel, eyes still closed and Sam quickly averted his gaze.

“Sorry,” he mumbled even though it was a blatant lie. Gabriel wasn’t bad-looking and Sam wasn’t blind. There was nothing wrong with a little admiration, right?

He pushed his fingers deeper into the feathers, sliding them upwards to the highest arch of the wing before raking them back down in a cycle.

Gabriel’s lips parted slightly in bliss, a choked sound of pleasure tumbling from them and Sam found his gaze tracking to the angel’s mouth, wondering if he tasted as sweet as the chocolate he enjoyed so much…

He turned away before that thought could go any further. It was no secret he was attracted to both men and women, he just favoured women. Although Gabriel was doing an excellent job of proving that to be a lie and the archangel hadn’t even done anything. Sam just liked being around him; liked talking to him and being teased by him and he was beginning to suspect he meant that as a little more than terms of friendship.

He was pretty certain Gabriel wouldn’t want a relationship with a human after the way he’d been treated by them, despite what all his overexaggerated flirting implied, but Sam didn’t mind too much because being friends with the archangel was more than enough. Gabriel considered him to be family and Sam couldn’t help but smile at that. How lucky was he?

As his fingers surged upwards again, they were met with something cool and wet. Sam paused and raised an eyebrow at the sight of a translucent golden liquid trickling from the tops of all six of Gabriel’s wings. He scooped the liquid up on a couple of fingers and rubbed his thumb over it curiously, noting it had the same consistency as oil.

He glanced at Gabriel’s face, ready to ask a question when he noticed the archangel had gone beet red and was staring at Sam in what could only be described as utter shame.

Sam was suddenly hit with a flashback from highschool monster studies.

“This is oil, right?” He asked. “The stuff you use to keep your wings in good condition?”

Gabriel nodded slowly. “Uh… yeah. It’s the first time I’ve produced any for at least thirty years.”

Sam brightened. “That’s great! Means you’re healthy, doesn’t it?”

Gabriel nodded stiffly. “I suppose.”

Sam’s expression dimmed as he wondered why Gabriel looked so uncomfortable. Then he remembered.

Oil glands were erogenous zones for angels.

Sam glanced at his other hand; buried deep between Gabriel’s feathers with oil trailing over his knuckles.

His face heated and he recoiled sharply. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise…” he trailed off at the flash of disappointment gracing Gabriel’s face before it was covered over again by an embarrassed expression.

“It’s fine, kiddo. I should be apologising to you for getting, ah… excited.” He ducked his head a little lower and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Appreciate the grooming though. Felt really good.”

Sam watched a trail of oil worm its way between feathers before finally seeping into the skin beneath.

He coughed lightly. “I mean… if you’re worried about it being inappropriate, I’m human so your oil doesn’t really bother me.” Liar. “If you like, I can… y’know…” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Gabriel’s wings.

Gabriel’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest before snapping it shut again as his gaze raked over Sam’s body, making the hunter squirm.

“…You sure?”

Sam blinked in surprise. He’d expected his offer to be rejected. The acceptance made something warm and pleased curl in his stomach.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s just grooming, right? You have to stimulate them when you want to groom yourself.” He scolded himself for imagining a naked Gabriel playing with himself on a bed, wings slick with oil and a groan slipping through his parted lips.

Gabriel stared at him a little wide-eyed. Then the archangel shook his head and forced a smile. “Right, yeah.”

Sam and Gabriel stared at one another for an awkward moment before Gabriel slowly spread his wings, revealing a few already-slicked feathers. 

Sam stared at their sheen for a few seconds before reaching out and continuing his massaging, slippery oil sliding between his fingers and making his cheeks heat.

Gabriel closed his eyes again, gulping quietly as Sam worked his oil into his wings. He wondered if the hunter knew how intimate grooming with oil actually was. Well, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Either way, Gabriel knew what he’d be dreaming about tonight.

Sam relaxed into the grooming, tugging and smoothing and rubbing oil over every feather and every patch of skin beneath them and when he finally worked his way to the top of the wing, he was suddenly aware of how close his and Gabriel’s bodies were.

He was also acutely aware of how much Gabriel’s breathy groans and soft moans of approval were turning him on.

He would need a cold shower after this.

He ran his oil-covered hands over the top of Gabriel’s primaries but paused when his right thumb hit a particularly wet patch. He brushed his thumb over the area again, hoping to spread the oil more evenly but frowned when Gabriel’s breath hitched. It was almost like a dent in the wing. 

Wait… was that…?

He carefully slid his thumb over the dent again and watched Gabriel bite his lip.

Sam swallowed thickly. That was an oil gland.

He didn’t know what made him do it, maybe it was Gabriel’s expression or the heat pooling in his own belly, but Sam circled his thumb around the gland and then lightly pressed against it.

Gabriel made a strange, choked-off noise and snapped his gaze to Sam’s face. Their eyes locked and Sam licked his dry lips before pressing a little harder.

A whine sounded at the back of Gabriel’s throat and he shifted his wing to allow Sam more access.

Sam swallowed and glanced over Gabriel’s oil-drenched wings, feathers ruffled despite their wetness as if he’d just rolled around someone’s bed. He shifted his gaze back to Gabriel’s eyes and watched the hunger and lust swirl inside them and all too soon, Sam’s jeans felt too tight.

He pushed his thumb inside the gland and watched Gabriel’s back arch, lips parting in a silent moan.

Sam shuffled closer until he could feel the heat radiating off Gabriel’s body and he slowly dipped his thumb in and out of the gland, watching Gabriel’s breathing dissolve into shaky pants.

With his left hand, Sam clutched at a bunch of feathers in Gabriel’s free primary wing, tugging just enough to arouse the archangel further. He swapped his thumb for a finger and after a few moments, inserted a second and Gabriel’s head lolled backwards slightly, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to silence his groans.

His own arousal pressing at his jeans, Sam’s left hand slid upwards in search of the right wing’s oil gland and when he found it, he pushed his finger in without warning.

Gabriel’s hips jutted upwards uselessly as he leaned all of his weight against the counter and Sam watched his back arch further as his wings pressed into Sam’s hands.

Sam’s gaze caught the strain in the archangel’s own jeans and felt his pulse pick up as he shuffled closer, pressing his body flush with Gabriel’s.

Gabriel’s eyes snapped open and his gaze locked onto Sam’s with an intensity that made the younger man shiver.

He plunged two fingers into both of Gabriel’s primary oil glands and felt a smirk tug at his lips at the archangel’s low groan.

Gabriel’s hips rolled slowly, but the angle was wrong and Gabriel was too short to reach Sam’s crotch. Sam frowned. That wouldn’t do.

Gabriel gasped in surprise when he was lifted onto the counter top, Sam quickly settling between his legs and he moaned breathily when Sam replaced his fingers inside his oil glands. The human’s hips rolled slowly and Gabriel felt something hard press against his own straining erection. Sam rutted against him again and they both made soft sounds of approval at the friction it granted them.

Sam began scissoring his fingers inside Gabriel’s glands and the archangel felt his eyes start to glow. Was he really that much of teenager?

Sam’s exploring of his glands quickened and Gabriel’s head fell against the cupboard above the counter. His oil was flowing freely now and Sam watched it hungrily as it cascaded down his feathers and began to form a tiny puddle on the counter.

“Sam,” breathed Gabriel, reaching out to tangle his fingers in the hunter’s hair and somehow, Gabriel saying his name made this all real. Any doubts he’d had about Gabriel not wanting this abruptly vanished and he curled his fingers inside Gabriel’s glands and watched the angel’s mouth widen as he jerked upwards slightly, eyes glowing brighter.

He curled his fingers again before pinching the wall of the glands between his thumb and the two fingers still inside the glands and Gabriel made a strangled noise before slumping against the cupboard, panting quietly.

Sam glanced down at Gabriel’s crotch to find a small damp patch on his jeans and he smirked smugly, eyes tracking up the angel’s body to meet a red face and ashamed gaze.

They stared at one another for a whole minute, just trying to catch their breaths before Gabriel clicked his fingers, cleaning his jeans.

Sam carefully pulled his fingers out of Gabriel’s slick glands and the angel shuddered, bowing his head in embarrassment. Sam took a step back from the counter and frowned when Gabriel’s arms wrapped around his body insecurely, the angel refusing to look up.

He stepped forwards again and squeezed Gabriel’s arm and Gabriel sunk lower in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered before flicking his gaze to Sam’s tented jeans. “You can use my mouth if you want.”

Sam recoiled in shock, taking a step backwards as though burned and the archangel glanced up at him worriedly and maybe a little fearfully.

“If you give me a few minutes, I can probably work myself up again,” he offered hurriedly as he hopped off the counter and began unbuckling himself. “My oil’s a pretty good lubricant if you haven’t got any.”

“Gabriel, stop!” Hissed Sam as he grabbed the archangel’s wrists. Gabriel stared at him in confusion and Sam cursed when he saw the fear dancing behind his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, uncaring of the oil slicking it. Why hadn’t he thought about this before? He should have known Gabriel would think he wasn’t allowed his own pleasure when Sam hadn’t had his. Should have known the archangel expected punishment for his own pleasure.

“Stop,” Sam sighed, releasing Gabriel’s other hand. “I didn’t do that to…” He trailed off and met Gabriel’s gaze.

“I don’t know why I did that,” admitted Sam. “I know I shouldn’t have, but you looked like you were enjoying yourself and I thought… I thought you deserved something good, I suppose. I kinda like seeing you happy and alright, maybe I was a little selfish in that your groans were sorta hot and I wanted to hear more of them, but I…” He cut himself off again and shook his head. “The point is, I don’t expect anything from you, Gabe. I got a little carried away, that’s all. I know you’re touch-starved and I just want to help. Want to make you feel… good.”

Gabriel blinked. “Well, you definitely did that,” he mumbled, but there was a smile tugging at his lips as if he realised what Sam was trying to say.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line,” murmured Sam, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I’ll never ask you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’ll never… use you like your old customers.” He felt angry just thinking about those nameless sadists who hurt Gabriel.

Gabriel was smiling fully now, gazing at Sam fondly as if the human was something precious and innocent. Then he smirked slyly.

“Well, if you want to make it up to me, you could always finish grooming my wings,” he hummed.

Sam’s eyes widened and he snorted at Gabriel’s pleading stare before shoving his hands into the archangel’s feathers once more. At least there was no confusion between them now, although Sam wasn’t sure where this put their relationship. It hurt to think about it so he ignored it and focused on oil-slicked feathers.

 

* * * 

 

They parked outside the pet shop and Dean smiled to himself when Castiel’s wings began to flutter. They hopped out of the car and made their way into the shop, immediately greeted by the smells of various kibble. Dean wrinkled his nose and added another reason to the list of why he would never get a dog.

The bell above the door rang and a short, thin woman popped her head out from behind the till, squinting at them for a second before bustling towards them when Dean smiled at her.

She wore thick-rimmed, cat-eye glasses and her black and white sweater didn’t match the short, pink floral skirt caked in sand and feathers. White pearls encircled her neck with matching earrings and her red boots stretched high to her knees. Even her scarlet lipstick looked out of place. 

“Can I help you?” She asked and Dean blinked because the woman looked to be in her sixties, but the voice was young and suggested the woman might actually be in her late forties.

“Uh, yeah. We saw your ad in the paper. The one about needing help?”

The woman blinked and she narrowed her gaze as she scrutinised Dean. “Have you ever worked with animals before?”

Dean shook his head. “Not for me.” He gestured to Castiel. “It’s actually for him.”

The woman blinked, surprised as she cast her gaze to Castiel, then her eyes brightened and she clasped her hands together.

“What’s your name, dear?”

“Castiel,” he replied and the woman nodded enthusiastically.

“And have you worked with animals before?”

Castiel hesitated. “No, but I have worked with old and sick people. I’m accustomed to caring for beings that can’t help themselves.”

The woman chuckled and nodded again. “The creatures here tend to bite more than old people.”

“You’d be surprised,” Castiel deadpanned, making the woman grin, obviously having taken an immediate liking to him.

“And are you comfortable with insects and dead rodents?” She asked and Dean frowned in confusion.

“Why would he have to be comfortable with those things?” He interrupted quickly. If Castiel was going to work here, Dean didn’t want him to get all the tasks no one else wanted, like waste disposal and pest extermination. If Castiel wanted to play with puppies and kittens all day, Dean would make sure that’s what he got to do.

The woman eyed him, unimpressed. “Well, we have to feed the snakes something.”

Dean stiffened. Snakes?

“You do realise this is an exotics shop?” Huffed the woman in amusement. “As in reptiles, amphibians, birds, rodents etcetera?”

Dean shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think that’s what Cas wanted- ”

“It’s perfect,” Castiel quickly cut in and Dean gaped at how the angel’s wings were bouncing with excitement.

“Snakes, Cas? Really? What if you get bitten?” Hissed Dean.

“I’m an angel, Dean,” he pointed out. “Their venom won’t affect me and I can heal any injuries I sustain. Besides, with proper handling, they shouldn’t feel the need to bite.”

The woman nodded, pleased. “That’s the correct attitude. How many days can you do?”

“As many as required,” smiled Castiel, pleased the woman had accepted him so openly. He hadn’t been sure if the shop even allowed monsters to work for them so to find that they did and the staff liked him was a wonderful surprise.

“How about we start you on three and you can see if this is the right place for you?” She hummed and Castiel nodded. 

“Now,” she paused as she glanced at Dean in disapproval. “Who do I pay?”

“We’re going to town later today to set up a bank account for him. So, you’ll pay Castiel,” Dean said gruffly. The woman clearly didn’t like him for some reason and Dean had no problem with using her attitude against her. 

At this, the woman cocked an eyebrow and nodded, seeming a little stunned. “…Good.” Her smile was wide as she turned her attention to Castiel. “My name’s Victoria Kensington but you can call me Vicky.” She offered her hand for Castiel to shake. “Let me introduce you to the other staff member you’ll be working with.” 

She bustled off into another room, leaving Castiel to smile in delight and Dean to cross his arms and wonder what he’d done wrong. Then he saw Castiel’s bright eyes and he softened a little, happy that the angel had found someone who accepted him. Castiel deserved all the happiness he could get.

Vicky returned a few moments later with a female seraph. She was a pretty thing with blue eyes and fluffy, dark hair and her wings were the purest of whites. She gazed at Castiel from under long eyelashes and a tiny, shy smile crawled onto her face as she offered him an adorable wave. A small, red and yellow corn snake popped its head out of her sleeve curiously and her smile widened as it began coiling around her wrist.

Castiel’s wings perked up and a joyous grin swept over his features as he watched the pretty seraph try to tuck the snake into her sleeve once more.

Something ugly and jealous slithered low in Dean’s stomach as Hannah giggled quietly, glancing at Castiel how Dean’s mind could only describe as flirtatiously.

“Castiel, this is Hannah. She’s been my angel for eight years now. Hannah, this is Castiel. He’ll be joining us next week. Make him feel welcome, dear,” introduced Vicky and Hannah nodded, giving up with the snake when it began making its way to her shoulders. It slid into her feathers and nestled there contentedly and Hannah shook her head in amusement.

“He does this every day,” she said, shrugging at Castiel and when Castiel’s grin grew, Dean clenched his jaw and suddenly wanted to leave the shop and never return. 

He wasn’t a possessive jerk though so he remained silent and did a poor job of convincing himself Castiel deserved happiness and if that included flirting with a beautiful female seraph, then he had no right to interfere.

…Why did he even care who Castiel flirted with?

“I expect to see you at nine o’clock sharp on Monday morning,” Vicky announced and Castiel nodded obediently. “We can sort out wage details and other arrangements then. Have a pleasant day, dear.”

Dean couldn’t leave soon enough. They slid into the car and Castiel cocked an eyebrow at Dean’s foul mood.

“Is everything okay, Dean?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Peachy,” Dean grunted, wondering why he felt so… _threatened_ by Hannah. Maybe it was because her owner didn’t like him. Maybe he was worried Vicky would favour Hannah over Castiel and treat him unfairly. Yeah, that must be it.

“Let’s go sort out that bank account, yeah?” Dean smiled, feeling more relaxed now they were driving away from the shop.

Castiel scrutinised him for a moment before settling into his seat.

“Okay, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

When Sam sat beside Castiel later that evening, browsing through his laptop as the seraph finished chapter thirteen of his latest novel, all the angels (barring Gabriel) froze and stared at Sam bewildered.

Dean resurfaced from the kitchen to pass his brother a beer as he plopped between Gabriel and Raphael, but frowned when he noticed Castiel, Lucifer, Raphael and Jack were all staring at Sam.

“…What?” Asked Sam, a little disturbed.

Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um… congratulations.”

Gabriel sunk a little lower in his seat.

Sam frowned. “For what?”

Castiel blinked at him. “Your… relationship.”

Gabriel pulled his magazine closer to his face.

“…What relationship?” Asked Sam, stunned.

Castiel stared at Sam and Sam stared back, equally as confused.

“You reek of Gabriel’s oil,” huffed Lucifer and he didn’t sound the least bit pleased about it.

A glint of realisation entered Sam’s eyes and his mouth formed a small ‘O’ shape.

“Yeah, I groomed him earlier. He looked stressed so I thought I’d try to help.” He conveniently left out Gabriel’s little ‘accident’.

“You groomed him with his oil?” Asked Raphael and his voice sounded slightly choked although Sam wasn’t sure why.

“Uh… yeah. I know it’s something you guys get flustered over but it’s just oil. If that’s what it takes to keep your wings healthy, you don’t need to get embarrassed over it, especially around Dean and me.”

Gabriel had nearly slipped off the edge of the couch.

The other angels balked at Sam before Castiel cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Sam… do you know what grooming an angel with their oil means?”

“…Should I?”

Gabriel’s magazine hit his lap and he glared Castiel into silence. Unfortunately, glaring didn’t stop Raphael, mostly because he couldn’t see Gabriel willing holes into the side of his head.

“Grooming is an activity anyone can partake in; friends, family, romantic partners. However, our oil carries our unique scents and is usually sacred between mates and lovers as the scent lingers on whoever touches the oil. It shows other angels that you’re taken and is a respected form of promise to someone else, like an engagement ring or wedding band is to humans. Angels who carry their own scent as well as someone else’s is accepted as being ‘off the market’.”

Sam absorbed this information in surprise and startled when Lucifer snorted.

“Basically, Gabriel appears to have staked a claim on you and neglected to tell you.”

Sam’s eyes blew wide and he snapped his gaze to Gabriel, who was red faced and looking rather like a deer about to be hit by a bus.

“…He offered,” Gabriel said weakly.

“Clearly not understanding the implications,” chided Castiel. “And you failed to educate him.”

“He said it didn’t have the same implications because he’s human,” protested Gabriel, clutching at straws.

“You rubbed yourself all over my brother and thought it didn’t matter because he’s human?” Dean asked incredulously, wrinkling his nose and Gabriel’s cheeks heated even more.

“It was an accident. I never meant to leak on him.”

“He must have been doing something pretty exciting to stimulate your oil glands,” drawled Lucifer, beginning to smirk now he knew Sam and Gabriel hadn’t wandered off and mated themselves in secret.

Sam felt his own face go up in flames.

“It was just regular grooming.”

“Sure,” smirked Lucifer.

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Is there something going on between you two?”

“No,” barked Sam and Gabriel indignantly before ducking their heads and refusing to look at one another.

Dean glanced between the pair and shook his head. 

“Whatever,” he said before flipping on the TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh... I really need to start planning how many chapters I want my fics to be...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: Rape is mentioned in this chapter.

There was something… off about Gabriel. At first, Sam had assumed it had something to do with Lucifer but after a week of strange behaviour, now he wasn’t so convinced.

Lucifer hadn’t changed at all. He was still snippy with everyone and he still glared at his brothers if they wandered too close to his son. He’d even bared his teeth at the Winchesters once or twice and it was apparent he didn’t trust his brothers and had no intentions of relaxing around them. In fact, he seemed amused by whatever Gabriel was going through (and Sam wasn’t happy about that at all).

He had noticed the beginnings of the odd behaviour when Gabriel began fluffing his feathers up for apparently no reason. His wings would flutter and all the feathers would suddenly stick up like a baby bird’s, as if begging to be petted (which Sam couldn’t resist and since it soothed Gabriel, he saw no problem with a little extra grooming). Then came the lunches. Sam had always made a salad to take to work with him, but he was surprised when five days ago, a salad had already been prepared and waiting for him, bursting with all the fruits and vegetables Sam enjoyed the most. Taped to the lid of the salad box had been a wrapped chocolate chip cookie.

It turned out that Gabriel had made his lunch and every day since, Sam had found another salad box and some sort of home-baked sweet treat waiting for him. Sam had already approached Gabriel about it, explaining he wasn’t expected to make his lunch, but Gabriel had brushed his words off, patted him on the head and given him another cookie and honestly, Sam can’t remember that much of the conversation because Gabriel’s cookies were _divine._

Yesterday had been movie night and whilst Sam was pretty relaxed about people leaning on him when he sat beside them, he hadn’t expected Gabriel to squeeze himself between him and Castiel on the two-seater couch and cling to his side without a word.

So, yeah, Gabriel was acting strange and Sam wasn’t sure why.

“Are you having an aneurism?” Drawled Lucifer and he snapped his gaze up to the archangel, who was arching an amused eyebrow at him.

It was just him, Jack and Lucifer in the living room as Dean was working, Castiel was at the pet shop and Gabriel and Raphael were… he didn’t know where Gabriel and Raphael were.

“Just thinking,” mumbled Sam. Lucifer made him more uncomfortable than he liked to admit.

The archangel observed him for a moment. “About what?”

Sam shrugged. He didn’t need to tell Lucifer anything.

Jack looked up from where he was drawing. “Is it about Uncle Gabriel? Father says he’s suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Do you think he’s sick?”

“Quiet, Jack,” scolded Lucifer, but he looked amused rather than angry.

Sam shot Lucifer a filthy glare. “No, I do not think he’s sick. Nor is he suffering from Stockholm syndrome.”

“Father says it’s either that or he’s got some sort of brain disorder.”

“Shush, Jack.”

“He’s not got a brain disorder either,” huffed Sam, rolling his eyes at Lucifer’s smirk.

“Well, Doctor, what do you suppose is wrong with him?” Drawled Lucifer.

Sam crossed his arms, mouth drawing into a thin line. “I’m not sure. Maybe he’s… distracted, or something.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely distracted,” scoffed Lucifer as he spotted his brothers wandering in from the garden. “I’ll give you a hint; it’s six-foot-four and wearing plaid.”

Sam frowned in confusion but smiled when Raphael and Gabriel entered the room. He always felt happier when Gabriel grinned at him; it was like the sun had decided to shine on him amidst a thunderstorm.

Gabriel paused when he noticed Lucifer smirking at Sam and he frowned warily.

“Are you two okay?”

“Great,” hummed Lucifer. “Getting along well, right, Samsquatch?”

Sam frowned at Lucifer using Gabriel’s nickname for him. It didn’t sound right coming from the older archangel. It didn’t slip Gabriel’s notice either and he pursed his lips, wings flicking in irritation.

“That’s… good. What are you guys talking about?” The tone was almost accusing and Lucifer smirked wider.

“Sam was just asking me for advice on relationship issues,” he lied and Sam’s head whipped around to scowl at him.

Gabriel’s fists clenched. “He was asking _you_ advice?”

Lucifer nodded slowly, smugly and before Sam got a chance to correct him, the older archangel stood and plopped himself down right beside the younger Winchester, arm snaking around the back of the seat Sam was leaning against. Lucifer pressed his knee against Sam’s and blinked lazily at the stunned Gabriel.

“We’re getting to know each other quite well,” Lucifer purred, placing a hand on Sam’s thigh. “Right, kiddo?” Another of Gabriel’s little pet names for him.

Before Sam had a chance to respond, Gabriel stormed around the side of the couch, wings fanned wide and high and feathers puffed up in fury.

“Move,” he growled with so much anger, Sam balked. 

Lucifer chuckled and with the hand around the back of Sam’s seat, began tracing gentle patterns into his neck with his fingertips.

“Gabriel, that’s incredibly rude,” he hummed. His fingers brushed against Sam’s jaw.

Gabriel’s eyes glowed a bright gold. “Get away from him,” he seethed.

Lucifer ignored him and curled a possessive wing around Sam, making the human scowl in confusion.

A ring of golden light appeared above Gabriel’s head as his eyes shone brighter and he surged forwards and grabbed Lucifer by his collar. He threw the other archangel onto the opposite couch with a snarl and made a point of seating himself beside Sam, curling three wings around him as he glared at his smirking brother.

“I see what you mean about his strange behaviour, Sam,” deadpanned Lucifer. “Very peculiar. I wonder what on Earth could be causing it?”

Gabriel blinked, halo fading out of existence as his eyes dimmed and he glanced at Sam for an explanation. Sam gaped at Gabriel with wide, shocked eyes.

“I thought Dean was your human, brother?” Hummed Lucifer innocently, because he always had to push it that little bit further.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at his brother, flaring his wings again.

“I thought you didn’t like the Winchesters, _brother_?” He snapped and Lucifer cocked a smirk and gazed at Sam pointedly.

“We weren’t discussing relationship issues, Gabe,” said Sam quietly. “We were barely discussing anything. I’ve only just sat down.”

Gabriel frowned and slowly pulled his wings away from Sam. “So… why did Lucifer…?” He trailed off, puzzled.

“To prove a point,” grinned Lucifer, stretching out on the other couch. “Sam asked a question, I gave him an answer.”

“What kind of question?” Asked Gabriel suspiciously.

“The kind that ends with you throwing a hissy fit over me stealing the object of your affections.” Lucifer smiled this shit-eating grin that had Gabriel sputtering out indignant protests and Sam slowly turning to Gabriel with a dawning look of realisation.

“You might want to sort this issue out in the vicinity of a bed,” grinned Lucifer as though he was really enjoying the drama he was causing.

Gabriel bristled and stood to rebuff Lucifer again, but a gentle touch to the wing from Sam had him sagging.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” Asked Sam quietly and Gabriel bit his tongue before scowling at his brother.

“No,” he huffed, feathers ruffled. He whirled on his heel and stomped upstairs.

“And the penny drops,” snickered Lucifer as Sam watched him go longingly. “My little brother is about a subtle as a brick and just as dense as one.”

Sam frowned disapprovingly at Lucifer. “Was there any need to humiliate him like that?”

Lucifer snorted, ignoring the question. Sam clenched his fists.

“Y’know, you’re a real dick. He’s had a hard time too, yet his whole goal in life has been to rescue his brothers from a life of cruelty, no matter what it meant for him. You don’t know about half the crap he’s struggled through and when we found you, he was so excited. He was excited to have his family back but so far, you’ve been rude to him, intimidating, condescending and that was just in the first day! He tried to respect your boundaries, tried to be patient and let you heal but you’ve yelled at him, upset him and humiliated him nearly every day. He rescued your ass from that facility; the least you could do is be grateful,” Sam snapped.

Lucifer’s eyes flashed with anger and Sam realised his mistake too late.

“Don’t you dare tell me to be grateful, you lumbering ape! Your kind tortures and murders and rapes and you expect me to be grateful? You’re right; I don’t know what he’s been through but neither do you. You’ll never know and you’ll never understand what I’ve been through either because it’s your fault we have to be rescued in the first place!” Snarled Lucifer.

“You think I approve of this?” Hissed Sam because no matter how intimidating Lucifer’s glowing bronze eyes were, it didn’t give him a right to upset Gabriel. “You think I approve of what’s been done to you or your son, or Cas, or Gabe, or Raph? I’m trying to make you guys happy; trying to make up for some of the horrors you’ve had to face. I know it’ll never make everything better, but it might help and if I can make you smile just once, then my effort’s been worth it. I would have thought you’d understand that, but no, all you’ve done is growl and snap at us and now you’ve humiliated your own brother. I would’ve thought you’d want to stick together; protect one another, but apparently the only person you’re looking out for is yourself!”

Lucifer’s wings flared and Sam almost took a step backwards. Almost. He was too angry at the other archangel for hurting Gabriel.

“I protect my son! I protect him from monsters like you! You may have brainwashed Gabriel, but you won’t brainwash me. Use Gabriel however you want; he’s obviously enamoured with you, but don’t come near me or my son. I won’t be a human’s rape fantasy again!”

Lucifer’s eyes were an intense bronze now, his golden halo shimmering into existence, reflecting off his flared wings. Sam would have yelled some more except his brain caught up to Lucifer’s last sentence.

“…Wait, what?”

Lucifer froze, blood draining from his face as he realised what he’d admitted to. He caught Raphael’s horrified expression and Sam’s shocked one and whirled around, heading towards the door. 

“I’m done with this,” he growled. “Jack, we’re leaving.”

He snarled when Sam grabbed his wrist and pushed him back onto the couch.

“Talk,” demanded Sam, crossing his arms as he towered above him. “I usually wouldn’t push, but after the way you’ve treated your brothers, I’m going to make an exception. What happened in that facility?”

“None of your business,” hissed Lucifer as he attempted to stand again, only to be shoved back down by Sam.

“It wasn’t a request,” snapped Sam.

“You showing your true colours, Winchester?” Sneered Lucifer.

“Lucifer, just talk,” huffed Raphael, surprising the others.

The older archangel narrowed his eyes for a moment before nodding to Jack.

“Take him upstairs,” he growled at Raphael. “I don’t want him hearing this.”

Jack blinked, gaze welling with fear. “Father, what- ”

“It’s alright, Jack. I’m going to be alright. I’m just going to talk with Sam,” reassured Lucifer gently. “Why don’t you go play with your Uncle Raphael? I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Jack didn’t look convinced but he knew he had no choice when Raphael herded him towards the stairs.

Once they were alone, Sam sat beside Lucifer and the archangel refused to look at him. Sam waited for the archangel to speak first.

“Jack’s a nephilim. Part angel, part human. They were going to kill him but I begged them to let me keep him,” murmured Lucifer.

Sam remained silent and Lucifer’s wings fidgeted behind him. “I was bred with many different types of angels in my time there; cherubs, seraphs, archangels… even a couple of demons just to see what the result would be.” Lucifer closed his eyes, voice low and disturbed. “They would throw me in a cell with these poor girls, sometimes more than one, and they’d make me rape them so they could sell another baby angel to a hospital or a care home or wherever else we were ‘required’. The ones with more archangel traits were highly coveted. They got sold off to the military as weapons or testing labs like Raphael. Archangels are more powerful than any other angel or monster so we’re the most highly sought after, meaning I was in high demand.”

Lucifer paused and licked his lips. He looked like he was struggling to get through the story.

“One day, one of the staff members – I don’t remember her name – she… I guess she got curious. Used to like watching me with these girls I was forced to breed and I always thought it was… weird, but I couldn’t exactly stop it. One night, when all the lights had gone out, sometime around one in the morning I think, she crept into the facility and stepped into my cell. I didn’t know what was happening because it was so dark and I’d only just woken up, but she ripped my robe off and…” Lucifer dropped his gaze in shame.

“I thought I knew what it meant to feel violated, but nothing compared to that moment. My wrists were bound and so were my ankles. I couldn’t fight back. When I tried calling out for help to the few staff members on the night shift, she hit me. Punched my eye and stuffed her shirt in my mouth. She took all her clothes off and started touching me… everywhere. Whispered how I was enjoying it; how I liked the feeling of her tight heat around me. She made me touch her and when I came inside her, she smirked and told me I was a dirty slut who wanted more. Told me she’d be back the next week.” Lucifer’s wings curled around himself as his tone turned vulnerable and shaky.

“She returned, as she said she would. Made me taste her. Hit me when I pulled away. She liked it when I fought back. Liked the idea of overpowering me and me not being able to defend myself. It became a regular occurrence. Every other day, she would return and force me to pleasure her and no one knew anything about it because it was always when the lights were off, when nobody was patrolling the corridors. I gave up fighting in the end. After the twelfth or thirteenth time, I just started crying when she left. Thing was, she always cleaned me up when we were done. Always dressed me and told me I was such a ‘good boy’. Held me and comforted me when I cried and I was so touch-starved, so desperate for affection, I leaned into her. I couldn’t wait for her to kiss me and tell me I how good I was. Couldn’t wait for her to pet my wings and stroke my hair and take care of me after she raped me.”

Sam watched, horrified, as a tear rolled down Lucifer’s face. He swiped at it bitterly. “How messed up is that?”

“Lucifer- ”

“And then one day, she stopped coming. I was actually upset because I thought she didn’t want me anymore. Can you believe that? I was upset she’d stopped forcing me to have sex with her.” He laughed hollowly at himself. “Turns out she was pregnant with my child. She was excited; thought it would turn out to be an archangel like me. Except when Jack was born, he only had four wings and seemingly very few powers. She was disgusted with him. Brought him into the facility to have him destroyed. He was of no use to anyone and nobody saw the point in keeping him. 

“I begged them to hand him over to me. Thought if no one else wanted me, at least I could have this child; hold him and feed him and take care of him. They refused at first but my rapist told everyone I was broken and needed my spirits lifting in order to make better offspring. They eventually agreed and I kept Jack for seven years before his powers started to filter through and they decided they could use him. They separated us and put him in another cell to see if his powers would develop enough for him to be used as a breeder, or if he should be handed over to the public.”

Sam stared at Lucifer, bile crawling up his throat. He felt dizzy.

“So, if you’re wondering why I’m not open to anyone touching me, including my brothers, or why I like to keep everyone at arm’s length, perhaps you’ll forgive me,” scoffed Lucifer bitterly. “Maybe it’ll even explain why I’m not so fond of humans and don’t approve of my brother having a relationship with one.”

“Lucifer, I… I had no idea,” breathed Sam.

The archangel snorted and crossed his arms. “Whatever.”

Sam clamped his mouth shut for a few moments, trying to take everything in. Suddenly, he wasn’t angry at Lucifer. No wonder the archangel was so controversial.

“Don’t pity me,” growled Lucifer when Sam took too long in responding. “I’m far stronger than you and I could kill you if I wanted to. Don’t you dare pity me.”

Sam shook his head. “That’s not…” He glanced away. “I’m… disgusted by how you’ve been treated. But I don’t… I don’t know how to fix it or make it better. Honestly? I’m not sure what to say.”

“You can’t,” snapped Lucifer. “It happened and I’m this messed-up, broken, twisted freak who can’t be fixed.”

Sam’s gaze snapped up sharply to the archangel. “You’re not a freak and you’re not twisted. Everyone’s a little broken, but that doesn’t mean you won’t heal in time.”

Sam couldn’t tell if the archangel was on the verge of breaking his neck or bursting into tears.

“Didn’t you hear a word I just said?” He hissed. “I enjoyed her raping me, Sam! I looked forward to it!”

“No, you looked forward to being touched and spoken to as if someone actually gave a damn about you,” corrected Sam. “It wasn’t the act you enjoyed, it was the care afterwards. You wanted someone to hold you and praise you because you’ve spent all your life isolated from the rest of the world, kept in filthy conditions and abused just for kicks. Don’t ever think you’re not a victim in this, because you are.”

Lucifer scowled. “I hate that word,” he huffed. “I’m not weak and pathetic. I’m not as vulnerable as everyone thinks.”

Sam frowned and leaned back against the couch, showing Lucifer it was ok to relax.

“You’re right; you’re not weak or pathetic. I never said you were. I said you’re a victim and it’s true.”

Lucifer shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet Sam’s gaze. He looked very small in that moment with his wings pinned to his back and his head bowed.

“I was so desperate to see them,” whispered Lucifer after a few minutes of silence. “So desperate to see my brothers again after we got separated. Michael was the last one to leave; about two years before this started. We had a fight the day they took him away. We were both so upset and angry at everything and we took it out on each other. We fell asleep, refusing to speak to one another and when I woke up… he was gone. They’d drugged me so I didn’t wake up when they entered his cell and Michael just… wasn’t there anymore. I wanted to take it all back, wanted to see him again and tell him I was sorry. I wanted to see them all again, hold them in my wings and never let them go. But that never happened. 

“When that woman started visiting me at night, I just… gave up. I thought I’d never see any of them again and after everything I’d done, everything I’d allowed her to do to me, I began to wonder what they’d think of me if they found out. They’d be so ashamed of me. Disgusted by me. Who could ever love a brother who enjoyed being raped? How could they ever look at me without seeing how much of a perverted slut I am? I hide behind Jack and tell everyone I’m taking care of him, but the truth is, I need him more than he needs me. He’s the only person who looks at me like I’m worth something. He knows where he came from, but he doesn’t know the details. Knows he’s part human and that his mother was a horrible person. He doesn’t know I enjoyed it and I have no intentions of telling him.”

Lucifer stared at the floor and once again, Sam wanted to vomit. He pushed the feelings down and gazed at Lucifer incredulously.

“Do you honestly believe your brothers would think that of you? Do you honestly believe they’d look at you with shame in their eyes? They love you, Lucifer. They want you to be their family again.”

Lucifer snorted and glanced away.

Sam pursed his lips and decided a different tact was in order.

“Last week, when I groomed Gabriel, you’re right; it wasn’t a regular grooming. I don’t know what made me do it, but when I accidentally brushed over his oil glands, I decided to go a little further.”

Lucifer scrunched his nose up and looked ready to protest but Sam effectively cut him off.

“I got him off by playing with his oil glands. I liked seeing him enjoying himself and I guess it turned me on too.”

“Is there a point to this?” Huffed Lucifer, red-faced.

“I’m getting there. He had… a teenage accident and he looked ashamed by it. Not thinking anything of it, I didn’t say anything and he looked up at me with so much fear and nervousness and told me I could _‘use his mouth’_.”

Lucifer blinked in alarm before clenching his fists and baring his teeth at Sam, but the human held a hand up.

“I didn’t,” he huffed. “I’d never use him like that.” He clasped his hands over his lap. “The point is, due to Gabriel's past, pleasuring people who wanted to hurt him, he expected to be punished for his own pleasure. It’s been drilled into him that he’s not allowed to enjoy sex; he’s nothing more than an object to be used by his partners. When I told him I didn’t see him like that, he was confused, because it’s all he’s ever known.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow at Lucifer. “Do you blame Gabriel for telling me to use his mouth?”

Lucifer shook his head slowly, realisation brightening in his eyes.

“He’s a victim,” agreed Sam. “It’s what he’s learned through past experiences. He couldn’t stop his experiences, so he tried to make the most of them.” Sam paused as he let that sink in. “Now, do you honestly think your brothers will blame you for what happened at that facility?”

Lucifer hesitated for a moment before gingerly shaking his head. Sam smiled.

“Exactly. People hurt and used you, and because you couldn’t stop it, you learned to make the best out of your situation. You found comfort where you could, even if it was in the arms of the one who hurt you most. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Lucifer. Your brothers won’t think any less of you.”

Lucifer scratched at his arms absently as he stared at the floor.

“Not having your family around is what started all this,” murmured Sam gently. “You were touch-starved and desperate for attention. Keeping your brothers at arm’s length isn’t going to help and it certainly isn’t helping them. They need you. They want to help you. And you need them. Keeping away from them just hurts everybody.”

Lucifer grimaced guiltily.

“And don’t you think Jack would benefit from having his uncles around?” Sam pressed. “The kid didn’t have brothers growing up like you did. Besides you, who else does he have?”

Lucifer glanced up at Sam then, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself.

“I miss them,” he whispered and Sam ached to reach out and pet his wings; to soothe him like he did Gabriel and Raphael and Castiel. He restrained himself for fear of spooking the archangel.

“Then let them help you. You guys can get through this together,” said Sam softly. When Lucifer glanced away again, Sam couldn’t help but continue. “And, y’know, Dean and I are always here too. If you need us,” he mumbled, not quite looking at Lucifer.

The archangel paused and slowly turned back to Sam, tilting his head thoughtfully.

“…Maybe you’re not so bad, Sam.”

Sam managed a small smile. “I really am just trying to help.”

Lucifer nodded. “I think I’m starting to believe that.” He glanced towards the stairs.

“Go on,” chuckled Sam and the archangel offered him a weak smile.

“…Thanks, Sam.”

Lucifer stood and made his way towards the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, Dean didn’t comment when he shrugged off his jacket and spotted Gabriel pillowing Lucifer’s head in his lap. He didn’t comment when he saw how Castiel had draped himself over the oldest archangel’s body, fast asleep and one hand fisting a bronze wing. He didn’t even comment at the sight of Raphael snuggled into Gabriel’s side, chatting quietly with Lucifer so as not to wake their baby brother.

Sam was glued to his laptop as usual, with the only difference being Jack was burrowed into his side. Dean quirked a smile and patted Sam’s shoulder in silent praise before wandering into the kitchen. His brother had always been better with words than he had.

He returned to the living room with a beer and a bowl of sweet snacks, which he left on the table for everyone to dip into. Unwilling to disturb his brothers but enticed by sugar, Gabriel waved a hand at the bowl in an intricate movement and a lollipop jumped out of the bowl, rolled to the edge of the table and sprouted wings before launching itself into Gabriel’s mouth and becoming a regular lollipop again. 

Lucifer snorted in amusement and Dean raised an impressed eyebrow. Sam bit back a smile.

Taking a leaf out of his brother’s book, Lucifer performed a similar movement with his hand and a line of gummy bears jumped out of the bowl and began marching towards the edge of the table. Lucifer stretched out his arm and one by one, the bears hopped into his palm.

Jack grinned and gestured towards the bowl and a chocolate frog leapt out of it, making Sam chuckle. It bounced around the table for a moment before landing on Sam’s knee and croaking at him. Then it flattened itself into a regular chocolate and Jack picked it up and began nibbling on it.

Shaking his head at his brothers’ antics and the way they were staring at him expectantly, Raphael wiggled his fingers at the bowl. It wobbled and vibrated for a few seconds before its contents rose into the shape of a volcano and shot a line of jelly beans into his mouth. He smirked at the other angels and they bit back laughter. Dean and Sam snorted in amusement.

Suddenly, Castiel clicked his fingers and the entire bowl emptied itself over the table and formed a miniature fairground, complete with jelly babies riding gummy rollercoasters and jelly beans hurtling down chocolate log flumes. There was even a liquorice Ferris wheel. With another click of his fingers, the snacks jumped into the bowl, back to regular sugar.

Lucifer smacked Castiel lightly upside the head. “Show off,” he muttered as Castiel attempted to bite back his smug smirk, eyes still firmly closed.

Dean and Sam laughed then. Living with angels was never boring. Living with archangels, a seraph and a nephilim was a whirlwind.

Gabriel carded his fingers through Lucifer’s wings contentedly and Castiel tucked his head under Lucifer’s chin.

The older archangel glanced around his little family and, for the first time in decades, felt happy. His brothers weren’t disgusted by him. Sam and Dean weren’t cruel. Jack was safe. He was loved.

The only thing missing was Michael.

His smile faded as he thought back to the fight they’d had the last day he’d seen his older brother. They’d said some hurtful things to one another; told each other how much they hated one another. They hadn’t meant any of it but it was the last conversation they’d had and Lucifer would never forgive himself. For all he knew, Michael could have died remembering Lucifer’s last words to him being how much he despised him. In fact, it was very likely Michael was dead by now, considering where he’d been sold to.

“I wish Michael was here,” whispered Lucifer, clutching Castiel’s wing to ground himself.

The humour faded from the atmosphere.

“…So do I,” murmured Gabriel after a moment as he felt Raphael hold him a little tighter.

“…He was sold to a fighting ring,” Lucifer said quietly, gaze full of pain as he kept replaying that day in his mind.

Silence greeted him and Gabriel gripped his wing tightly as Castiel buried his face into his neck.

It was a few minutes before Dean spoke. “A fighting ring?” He asked carefully.

“Monsters are forced to fight one another to the death like dogs. Technically it’s illegal, but there’s a lot of money involved and those with the strongest monsters win a lot. That’s how they were able to afford Michael. The facility liked the offer and turned a blind eye to where it came from,” sighed Lucifer.

Dean scowled. “No technicality about it. That’s definitely illegal. You know where the ring is?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Guards said something about Missouri. Don’t know where though.”

Sam and Dean glanced at one another.

“Out of our jurisdiction,” frowned Sam unhappily. 

Dean paused thoughtfully. “Only if we turn up as cops.”

Sam scowled. “Well, yeah. That is our job.”

Dean smirked. “They don’t know that. The ring runners don’t know who we are. If we pay the entrance fee, no one’s gonna suspect a thing.”

Sam blinked as he cottoned on to his brother’s line of thinking.

“Still, how are we gonna get close enough to the contestants if we’re in the audience? Those arenas will be guarded. We won’t be allowed anywhere near the ring.”

“Who said anything about being in the audience?” Hummed Dean. “We have a champion to enter.”

The angels blinked as Sam’s eyes lit up in realisation.

“Wait a minute, Michael’s likely already dead,” said Lucifer. “Going to that ring is a reckless idea and you’re bound to get caught.”

“What if he’s not, though?” Dean asked. “What if he’s locked up in a cell, beaten and bloody but still breathing and desperate for someone to save him?”

Raphael shook his head slowly. “Dean, you don’t understand. Even if Michael is still alive after all these years, those fighting rings change monsters. They give them so many mental issues and so much emotional trauma that it’s kinder to let the creatures die. If Michael is alive, he won’t be the same man we remember. I doubt he’d even recall us. His whole goal in life will be to kill any monster put in front of him, lest he get battered and starved by his keeper. Even humans are frightened of fighting ring monsters; they’re not just wild, they’re demented. They’ll kill anything that moves if you let them.”

“If there was the slightest chance you could save him and have him back, safe and happy, would you?” Asked Sam.

The angels paused, glancing at one another before nodding slowly.

“Guys, Michael has something to fight for, something to stay strong for. He knew Gabriel had escaped and he knew Castiel was working at a care home. Whilst he might not have known what would become of Raphael in a lab, he knew Lucifer was still in the breeding facility. He has you to fight for. He constantly has his family in the back of his mind. If anyone was going to survive that ring and not be broken by it, it’s your brother,” said Sam firmly. “Are you just going to give up on him?”

Lucifer stared at the younger Winchester. “Have you ever considered going into public speaking? You’re really good at it.”

Sam grinned as the older archangel sat upright. 

“So, who’s going to be your champion?” Lucifer drawled.

 

* * *

 

That weekend, Dean rented a huge black van and, after ensuring Raphael and Jack were comfortable at home with Charlie, Anna and Meg (who Raphael was rather eager to meet again for some reason), the Winchesters and their angels took a road trip to Missouri. 

The internet once again proved useful in locating the only fighting arena in Missouri and after some very deep digging into the depths of the web, the Winchesters found themselves heading to the outskirts of Springfield. 

They stayed overnight at a motel and when afternoon of the next day rolled around, they piled back into the van and made their way to the fighting grounds.

The rings were held in an old barn, but the structures inside were clearly permanent and hadn’t been moved in years. Even the monster cages were bolted to the floor and the arenas were strong and immovable. 

From the outside, the barn looked newly abandoned, despite its thick wooden walls, as it was surrounded by overgrown wasteland and a lack of farm equipment. Inside, it was a hive of activity, from people placing bets, to monsters fighting, to humans arguing over the price of snacks and drinks.

Lucifer shifted nervously in the back of the van, wings twitching at the thought of entering the barn as the Winchesters’ fighter. He sagged a little when Gabriel and Castiel moved to his sides, leaning into him reassuringly. He wrapped his wings around them, seeking comfort. He wasn’t sure if Michael was even alive and if he was, would he even remember Lucifer? What if Michael tried to kill him and he was forced to retaliate? What if Michael wasn’t alive and he was thrown into the ring with a violent, hate-filled psychopath and was made to fight for his life?

He wished his son was here, just so he could card his fingers through his wings and reassure himself.

“Sam and Dean won’t let anything happen to you,” promised Castiel quietly as he stroked a hand through the older angel’s wings. “We’ll be watching too.”

Lucifer managed a small smile and he tugged Castiel closer, tucking the seraph’s head under his chin. How had he survived so long without this? How had he made it so far without having his family surrounding him? How could he have thought his family would reject him for something he had no control over?

“Don’t let anyone touch you,” whispered Lucifer. “Stay with the Winchesters at all times, got it?”

Gabriel quirked a smirk. “Yes, mother,” he said before resting his head against Lucifer’s shoulder. He’d missed this.

Lucifer flicked the back of his head lightly before wrapping an arm around him.

The van rolled to a stop a little distance away from the barn; out of sight so that anyone milling around outside wouldn’t be able to see the Winchesters hop into the back of the van.

“How’re you feeling?” Asked Dean gruffly as he pulled three collars out of his rucksack. Lucifer eyed them warily.

“Nervous,” he admitted and Dean offered him an apologetic glance before handing him a fairy collar. It looked no different to Castiel’s original collar.

The three angels clicked their collars into place, Lucifer a little more hesitantly than the others, before Sam quickly deactivated them all. As long as anyone didn’t stare too closely at the back of their necks, they wouldn’t notice the collars weren’t fully locked.

“We tried calling Springfield Police Department, see if they’d allow us to accompany them on a bust-up, but they told us our information was off and there were no fighting rings in Missouri. My bet is the police are in on it and they’re either getting bribed not to shut it down or they’re actually entering monsters into the contest for cash. Either way, they told us to stop bothering them and that we were out of our jurisdiction,” huffed Dean. He was starting to believe that maybe the police weren’t as ignorant to monster cruelty as he’d first thought. Sure, he and Sam hadn’t always been kind or tolerant of monsters in the past, but at least now they knew what really happened behind closed doors, they were learning to be more understanding. Maybe certain members of the police force already knew about the abuse monsters faced and didn’t care. Even worse, some appeared to encourage it as he’d found out about Gordon Walker last time they’d been paired on shift together.

Dean still had nightmares about that poor pishtaco Gordon had brutally slaughtered. The girl was only trying to survive. Sure, she’d sucked a few pounds of fat off her owner, but she’d never actually killed anyone. The owner had probably died of a heart attack because of all the weight he was carting around.

Gordon hadn’t seen it that way and Dean hadn’t expected his partner to beat the girl to death with his truncheon. By the time Dean had managed to wrestle the weapon out of Gordon’s hands, the girl was dead.

Dean put a hand on his stomach to settle it. He couldn’t get queasy now. Gordon would get what he deserved; he would make sure of it.

“Since the state cops won’t help us, we’ve decided to take matters into our own hands and we’ve recruited a few friends to help us with this job,” continued Dean as he glanced at Lucifer. “They should be here soon and they know to keep you protected at all times. No one’s gonna lay a finger on you, okay?”

Lucifer nodded, a small smile worming its way onto his features. Maybe he should revise his statement about all humans being cruel, abusive assholes.

There was a light knock on the door and Sam and Dean tensed as Castiel flared his wings wide and intimidating in front of his brothers.

Fingering the gun at his hip, Sam carefully opened the door.

He relaxed immediately. “Bobby,” he grinned, swinging the door open enough for an older man with a scruffy beard and a baseball cap to climb through. A demon with rich red wings and matching horns and tail glided in after him, a permanent smirk etched into his face. He raised an eyebrow at the three angels and swished his tail in interest.

“I’ve never seen an archangel up close,” he hummed. “Thought you’d be more impressive.”

Lucifer’s wings spread far and wide as he glowered at the demon. Something about that thing rubbed him the wrong way and if it wasn’t careful, it would burn at Lucifer’s hands.

The demon, clearly a crossroads demon if his long, elegant horns were anything to go by, smirked wider and leaned against the wall of the van, cocky and smug and everything that irritated Lucifer.

Bobby glowered at the demon. “Try to be polite for once in your life, Crowley.”

“Anything for you, love,” the demon purred, making Bobby’s cheeks heat and Sam and Dean stare at the older man in confusion.

“Ellen and Jo are on their way,” Bobby huffed. “Kevin’s running a little late, but he should be here soon.”

“Awesome,” nodded Sam before fishing in his pocket to offer Bobby a (police-borrowed) earpiece. “Once everyone’s here, we’ll move in. Everyone remember the plan?”

Bobby nodded and Crowley blinked slowly, like a cat who had everything it wanted in life. He coiled his tail around Bobby’s ankle and chuckled softly when the human elbowed him.

Dean and Sam decided not to ask.

 

* * *

 

The barn was enormous. It housed three fighting rings and at least two dozen small cages for holding contestants. There were snack stands and a box to make bets at and receive winnings from. Monsters snarled at each other both in the cages and in the audience and one vampire lunged at a werewolf and sunk his fangs into the wolf’s neck before their owners yanked them backwards and began arguing with one another. In one corner of the barn, a wraith stabbed her spines into a wendigo’s stomach and the wendigo cried out and impaled her on his antlers. The owners laughed before dragging them apart by their chains and the wraith collapsed to the floor, holding her bloodied stomach.

Lucifer, Gabriel and Castiel huddled a little closer to the Winchesters, toying with their own chains anxiously.

Sam and Dean wandered to a small desk manned by a slick-looking man wearing a black suit and too much cologne, trying not to think too hard about the events around them and why the air had an iron tang to it. 

“We’re here to enter the competition,” said Dean in a way he hoped sounded intimidating. “We have an archangel.”

The man eyed Lucifer with interest, completely bypassing Gabriel since he had his wings hidden.

“And who is it you’d like it to face?” The man smirked.

“Dunno, we’re new here,” shrugged Dean. “Never been to this ring before. What’s the most powerful monster you got?”

The man arched an eyebrow. “You’re cocky for a newbie.”

Sam snorted. “Never said he hasn’t fought before. Just said he hadn’t fought _here_ before. Now, should we take our business elsewhere?”

The man eyed Sam, unimpressed, before shaking his head. “We have a leviathan, if you think you’re up to it. It’s never lost a fight.”

Sam and Dean had to prevent themselves for stiffening. How did this place have a leviathan? They were extinct. How on Earth could one have possibly-

Sam swallowed. The girl at the nightclub. The one who had been killed by a leviathan all those months ago. The case was still open because they had never found the monster. Gabriel and Castiel appeared to have reached the same conclusion because they glanced at one another in alarm.

“I said a ‘fight’ not an ‘execution’,” huffed Dean. “He makes me us a lot of money. Don’t want him to lose his head in the first ten seconds. What else you got?”

The man chuckled. “Our next most powerful creature is an archangel. We’ve had him a good few years and we’re thinking of feeding him to the leviathan soon because people are getting bored of him, but he’s never lost a fight either. People might gain a bit more interest in him if he fights someone who matches his abilities.” He eyed Lucifer pointedly. “A lot of money involved.”

“How much to enter?” Grunted Dean and the man’s smirk widened. 

“For a high-level monster like an archangel? Two hundred.”

Just to make himself sound like the other brutes and aggressive customers milling about the place, Dean pulled a face. 

“Plus a hundred-dollar entrance fee? You’ve got to be kidding.”

The man shrugged. “This place isn’t exactly up to codes. Gotta deter those weak-stomached people who’d tell on us if they saw what was going on. You gonna cough up or not? I’m happy to buy the freak off you if you want him off your hands.” He leered at Lucifer with an ugly grin and the archangel had to force himself to not back into Sam.

“Whatever, we’ll pay,” grumbled Dean, forking over the cash. Sam had done some research on the place and they had both known going into this that they would be required to hand over a small fortune.

The man snatched the money off them before they could reconsider. “You won’t regret it,” he hummed. “Besides, if you win, with the odds as they are, you’ll get six times the amount back.”

Dean nodded stiffly. “Great.”

The man didn’t seem to notice his discomfort and he signalled a bulky man with an earpiece to join them.

“Take the beast to the holding chambers. He’s to fight Feathers in Ring B in ten minutes. Got it?”

The hulking man nodded silently and Sam gingerly passed Lucifer’s chain to him, wincing when the guy nearly yanked Lucifer off his feet.

Gabriel and Castiel looked ready to smite the guard.

The booking attendant glanced over Gabriel and Castiel greedily. “You want the seraph in the ring too?”

Sam tightened his grip on Castiel’s chain.

“No. They’re our… personal assistants.”

The attendant cocked an eyebrow at them before chuckling as he made the wrong assumption.

“Touched by an angel, huh?” He winked

Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust. “…Sure.”

“Well, gentlemen, good luck. Place your bets over there.” He pointed to the betting booth, manned by a bored-looking, middle-aged woman.

Sam and Dean nodded tightly before walking away from the attendant, Gabriel and Castiel trailing after them obediently. They made it half way to ring B before someone tapped Dean on the shoulder.

A tall, slender woman with pale blonde hair, killer stilettos and poisonous green eyes leered at Gabriel before smirking at Dean. She was dressed in red leather and her hands were gloved.

“Your pet’s name is Loki, correct?” She purred and Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Gabriel stiffened and took a step backwards.

“Ma’am, I think you’re barking up the wrong- ”

“I used to be a regular customer of his back when that greasy pimp had him.” Her voice was sharp and precise, like her gaze.

Dean tensed as Gabriel grew pale, shifting a little closer to Dean. Obviously, this woman hadn’t been kind to him.

“I’m willing to pay,” she hummed, opening her bag. “I’ll only need a couple of hours.”

“He ain’t for sale,” Dean bit out.

The woman pursed her lips. “I pay generously.” She glanced over Sam and Dean’s clothes; old jeans and worn shirts, perfect for fitting in with the surrounding clientele. “You look like you could use it,” she said in distaste.

“Find someone who’s interested,” scoffed Dean. “Or better yet, try dating.”

The woman arched a perfectly shaped brow. “I’m married,” she drawled. “We used Loki to spice up our sex life. Tricksters have a higher pain threshold than most other monsters. We’ve never found anyone who quite matches up to our experiences with your pet.”

Gabriel grimaced at the memories of agony at the hands of this particular woman and her husband. They told him they were into BDSM, but what they really meant was torture. They particularly enjoyed it when he bled. It didn’t matter where, as long as his skin was painted with red.

She licked her cherry lips and smirked at Gabriel, reaching out to gently trace a finger down his cheek.

Suddenly, Sam bristled and grasped her wrist, jerking it away from Gabriel and startling everyone. He crushed her wrist between his fingers and took a step forwards, towering over her intimidatingly.

“Leave us alone,” he hissed, low and angry and the woman’s eyes widened for a moment before she snatched her hand back and glowered at Sam.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she growled. “I was talking to his owner.” She made a show of ignoring Sam and turning to Dean. “How much?”

“Find me three goats, seventeen chickens and a Jar Jar Binks and he’s yours,” Dean said sarcastically, making the woman scowl and clench her fists.

“You don’t know how to use him. I’ll buy him off you. You can even watch how we play with him if you want. I’m sure my husband won’t mind.”

Dean and Castiel looked furious now, but Sam was seething. He stepped in front of Gabriel, Castiel flaring his wings beside him, and sent the woman a fiery glare.

“I will shoot you if you continue,” Sam threatened in hushed tones, revealing the gun at his hip. “And I’ll make sure it hurts.” 

The woman stood a little straighter as Dean gaped at his brother in surprise. She nodded in understanding and whirled around before gliding away into the crowd of people.

Sam scowled and continued his journey towards Ring B, Dean following at a slightly slower pace. He glanced at Gabriel thoughtfully and when the archangel stared back curiously, he grinned, huffed out a quiet laugh and shook his head before smirking as he trotted to the other side of the ring, like they had planned.

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” chuckled Dean.

Gabriel frowned. “No seriously, what?”

Dean glanced at the archangel in amusement. “Sammy’s got a crush,” he hummed.

Gabriel’s frown deepened. “No, he hasn’t.”

“The grooming says otherwise,” teased Dean and Gabriel crossed his arms.

“That was an accident. It was my fault because I couldn’t control my oil. It didn’t mean anything.”

Dean grinned wider. “Did he accidentally stick his fingers in your glands repeatedly?”

Gabriel glanced away. “…He was curious. It doesn’t mean anything. He told me he just wanted to make me feel good for once.”

Dean’s eyes brightened in amusement. “And you feel absolutely nothing for him, either? Not even a smidge? It meant nothing more than a 'one night stand' to you?”

Gabriel wouldn’t meet his gaze. “No. We’re just… friends.”

“So, all that preening you’ve been doing these past couple of weeks and the gifts and the sappy gazes whenever he’s in the room… they’re just gestures of friendship?” Dean teased.

Gabriel’s cheeks were beginning to heat. “Shut up. It’s not like that. We’re just…”

“Hopelessly in love?” Drawled Dean.

Gabriel shot him a filthy glare. _“Friends,”_ he huffed. “Nothing more. So you don’t have to worry about protecting your little brother’s virtue from the dirty, monster hooker. I’m not gonna taint his purity or whatever.”

Dean’s gaze softened, his smirk fading slightly. “Pity,” he murmured. “Sammy could do with someone who genuinely cares for him. I think it would be good if he had someone to take care of, too.”

Gabriel blinked and swivelled his head so fast, he nearly got whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Dean quirked a smile. “Hey, I only go full big brother on people I don’t trust and think are likely to break his heart. I’ve got a good feeling about you, Gabe.”

Gabriel’s jaw flopped open.

“Wait a minute… what? You think… I… Sam…” He sputtered for a moment before collecting his thoughts. “You’re okay with me crushing on Sam?”

“Thought you didn’t have a crush?”

“Wipe that grin off your face, Winchester. You know damn well I’m smitten with your brother,” huffed the archangel, succeeding in widening Dean’s grin. “What I don’t get is… why you’re alright with that.”

Dean leaned against the bar surrounding the caged arena. “Because, contrary to what you seem to think, you’re a pretty good guy. You might be a pain in my ass but you’re the kind of pain that plays pranks just to cheer people up. You show my brother how to bake snickerdoodles at two in the morning because he’s had a nightmare and can’t sleep. You love your family too much and you’d do anything for them, including coming to a fighting ring when you know how likely it is you could get stabbed, bitten or clawed and apparently, propositioned for freaky sex. Heck, you even like my taste in music; that’s twenty points for you right there.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rocketed upwards in surprise and Dean chuckled.

“Not to mention you’re patient, loyal, protective and all those other sappy adjectives Sam would never let me live down if he heard me describing you as. You’re kind of awesome and I’d rather have my brother chasing after someone like you than a human who gets bored of him one day and shatters his heart for kicks.”

Gabriel blinked. “…Thanks, Dean,” he murmured, touched.

Dean nodded. “So, now you’ve got approval from the big brother, you gonna woo the little one?”

Gabriel smirked. “I was thinking more along the lines of jumping him once we get back to the van.”

Dean stiffened and wielded a finger at the archangel. “You are not defiling my little brother where I can hear you. You can at least wait until we get back home. I don’t trust that motel’s walls; they’re like paper.”

Gabriel cackled. “You’re gonna regret letting me court your baby brother. We’ll christen our relationship in the Impala.”

Dean stared at Gabriel blankly. “I will end you.”

The angel laughed again before a thought occurred to him.

“Hey, does this mean I can’t say anything when you and Cas hook up?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

 

* * *

 

Lucifer growled at the guards as they tugged on the chain attached to his collar, brandishing long tasers at him when he took too long to move out of his cage. He flapped his wings warningly and snarled when one taser got a little too close for comfort.

“I’m walking,” he snapped, huffing when the guards dragged him into the arena and unclipped his chain. They quickly filed out of the ring and he felt anxiety bubble low in his gut when he realised the ring was enclosed by a large, warded cage. No chance of using his powers to escape then. He felt the thrum of energy around him, pressurising his grace even though it didn’t prevent him from using his powers inside the ring.

He summoned his angel blade just to reassure himself.

The sounds outside the tank were muted, but he could still hear people cheering and yelling, excited for an archangel fight. He glanced around the barn and spotted Sam and Dean and his brothers looking grim and concerned as they stared up at him. Dotted in other parts of the barn were the likes of Jo, Ellen, Kevin and Bobby, but since he’d never met the first three, he wasn’t certain where they were.

He toyed with his blade, trying not to look fearful. What if the archangel he was about to face wasn’t Michael? What if he had to fight for his life against an archangel who was set on killing him?

He startled when there was a cheer from the audience and he glanced at the other side of the ring, steeling himself for an opponent he couldn’t see.

Eight guards burst through the door on the other side of the ring and hauled a silver-winged angel in with them. The angel snarled and lunged for one of the guards but a taser was jabbed at his neck and he hissed and flapped his wings furiously, knocking one of the guards off balance. His wrists were tied together with a thick rope, as were his ankles and his wings had sharp hooks in them, attached to solid poles which the guards were struggling to hold.

A leather whip cracked down on the archangel’s face and he yelped, stumbling backwards as he threw his wings around himself protectively, only to hiss when the hooks tore at the muscles.

The guards rushed to unhook his wings and barely managed to leap away in time before the archangel snapped his bindings and lunged for them with a snarl. They produced the activator for his collar and held the button down long enough to escape as he writhed in agony. One guard whipped him on the way out.

Lucifer licked his lips, adrenaline pumping through his veins as the other archangel slowly lifted his head to glare at him with pure hatred.

His face dripped with blood, a deep gash stretching from above his right eye to his left cheek from where the whip had made contact and the rest of his body was battered and bruised, wings tattered and torn up from previous fights. However, there was no mistaking who the creature baring his teeth at Lucifer was.

Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnn!


	15. Chapter 15

Before Lucifer had a chance to open his mouth, Michael lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. Lucifer winced as his head hit the floor, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it because Michael drew back his fist and smashed it into his cheek. Lucifer yelped and threw his hands over his face to protect himself but Michael pinned both wrists above his head and struck another blow to his jaw. The younger archangel automatically kicked out, flapping his wings in distress and Michael grunted as a knee made contact with his abdomen. The grip on Lucifer’s wrists slackened and Lucifer rolled Michael onto his back, straddling his brother.

“Michael! Stop! It’s me! It’s- ”

The older archangel summoned his blade and sliced into Lucifer’s arm, making the younger archangel hiss and grab for the wound. Michael kicked out powerfully, winding his opponent and Lucifer collapsed onto his side with a groan. Michael quickly wrapped a hand around Lucifer’s throat, squeezing hard as he readied his blade, aiming it for the younger angel’s heart.

Frantic, Lucifer placed a hand against his brother’s chest and willed his grace into it, sending the other archangel sprawling into a glass wall with a heavy _thud_.

Michael stumbled to his feet around the same time Lucifer did and brown eyes narrowed in fury as the older archangel raised his own hand and launched a blast of energy at the younger angel. Lucifer’s head hit the opposite wall and he slumped to the floor, disorientated for a moment as his skull throbbed. He vaguely saw Michael approach but only took notice when his brother tried to impale his chest with his blade. He ducked out of the way and bounced to his feet but yelped when Michael tackled him again, slamming him back into the wall.

They struggled for a moment, Lucifer determined not to hurt his brother whilst Michael attempted to kill him, but after a minute, Michael broke free of Lucifer’s hold and his knife descended towards the younger angel’s face. Their blades clashed and Lucifer managed to twist Michael’s weapon out of the way before he flipped their positions and pinned Michael to the wall, blades now crossed against their chests.

“Michael! It’s me! Lucifer!” Begged the younger archangel, but Michael didn’t appear to be listening as he kicked at Lucifer’s ankles and beat his wings against his little brother’s head. Lucifer staggered backwards and Michael sent a powerful blow to his stomach, making him double over. When the knife descended on him once more, Lucifer decided he’d run out of patience.

He rammed his fist upwards into Michael’s jaw, sending his brother stumbling and with another punch to the stomach, had the other angel loosening his grip on his blade. He slammed a wing into the side of Michael’s head and the shorter archangel staggered to one side, making it easy for Lucifer to grab his blade and disarm him.

Michael snarled and battered his fist against the side of Lucifer’s jaw and they tussled for a few moments before Michael curled a hand around Lucifer’s throat. He wrestled Lucifer’s blade out of his grip and the younger angel made a hasty grab for Michael’s wing, clawing desperately. Michael snorted and squeezed Lucifer’s throat.

Closing his eyes, Lucifer kneed his brother in the crotch and when Michael groaned in pain, he knocked the blade out of his hand and steeled himself against the punch Michael dealt his ribs.

The audience cheered and whistled, some yelling in excitement as the two archangels battered one another. 

Lucifer winced as Michael’s fist contacted with his eye. That would be black later. He had to stop this now; Michael had far greater skill at fighting than he did after competing in the arena for so long. Lucifer could already feel himself beginning to tire and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be dead within the next five minutes. He had to find a way to get through to his brother.

He gasped when Michael yanked on his wing and punched him in the stomach again before smashing the bone of his own wing into Lucifer’s face. Lucifer stumbled backwards as Michael threw another couple of punches at his stomach and he doubled over, trying to protect himself. He would haemorrhage if Michael kept this up.

His eyes widened when Michael raised his hand and sent him flying into the wall again, head thunking against the glass. Before he knew it, he was on the floor again, Michael’s fists flying at his face over and over. He raked his nails over his brother’s face and Michael hissed as blood trickled down his skin from the fresh wounds, but then he reached for something out of Lucifer’s field of vision and the younger archangel gasped when a blade sliced through his palm.

Reflexively, his hand shot upwards to tighten around Michael’s throat, but the older archangel carved into his cheek, making Lucifer cry out in agony.

He suddenly found his wrists pinned above his head by one of Michael’s hands and six silver wings slammed into six bronze ones, restraining them effectively. Michael slashed at his face again and Lucifer felt tears of pain prickle at his eyes.

Michael sliced into his face over and over, ignoring Lucifer’s tears until the younger archangel finally managed to break one hand free of his grip and grab desperately at the hand holding the blade.

“Mikey, _please!_ ” He begged brokenly, blood trailing down his skin and soaking into his clothes or making tiny puddles on the floor. His face pulsed and it felt as though someone had set it on fire. He just wanted to be back at home, tucked safely in Gabriel’s wings as Raphael stroked his hair and Castiel lay on his lap, Jack playing on the floor. He just wanted to be with his family.

It took him a few seconds to realise Michael had stopped carving into him.

He cracked an eye open, daring to glance up at his older brother, to find Michael staring at him in confusion and pain. Distantly, Lucifer could hear some sort of buzzing sound and it took him a moment to realise it was Michael’s collar delivering a constant wave of electricity into his body. The faint smell of burning flesh wafted up to Lucifer’s nostrils and his eyes widened in horror.

“Mikey,” he breathed and suddenly, Michael flinched, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them and frowning at Lucifer, anxious and confused and maybe a little fearful.

Desperate to remind Michael who he was, Lucifer carefully released his brother’s wrist and carded gentle fingers through abused wings. “Brother, please,” he whispered.

Michael blinked, then he blinked again and his eyes widened in recognition before filling with panic and apology and self-loathing and a jumble of other emotions that had the older archangel scrambling away from Lucifer and flopping onto his rear in his clumsy attempt to put as much distance between them as possible.

“Luci?” He whimpered, horrified as Lucifer struggled to sit up and Lucifer couldn’t feel the burning pain in his face anymore because he was too thrilled at hearing that one little word from his brother’s lips. He flapped his wings in unrestrained excitement and a grin lit his bloodied features as he crawled over to Michael.

Michael seemed even more distressed and he tried to scramble away again, only for Lucifer to drag him in for a hug. He struggled against the younger archangel for a moment but then, Lucifer curled his wings protectively around Michael and smoothed a hand down his back.

“I’ve got you, brother. It’s okay,” murmured Lucifer beside Michael’s ear.

Michael broke down, clutching at Lucifer’s back as he sobbed into his neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chanted over and over and Lucifer’s heart ached as he pressed his lips against his brother’s hair.

“I’m here,” Lucifer whispered soothingly. “I won’t let you go ever again. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Michael tangled his fingers in Lucifer’s hair as his other hand clutched the base of a wing. More tears trailed over his cheeks and onto Lucifer’s clothes as whoever had his activator began to slowly increase the voltage settings, upping the pain until he felt his skin beginning to burn off. He wouldn’t fight Lucifer again though. He would rather die. 

Lucifer pulled back slightly to stare at him, shoulders tense. The smell of his roasting flesh was becoming nauseating. He tugged Michael back into his chest.

“We’re getting out of here,” he whispered. “Stay close, okay?”

Michael frowned in confusion when Lucifer suddenly made an odd movement with his primary wings, but he startled when gun shots sounded around the barn.

“Everybody on the ground!” Yelled Dean, flashing his police badge as he fired two shots at the ceiling. He released Gabriel’s chain and the archangel ripped off his collar and soared high into the air, flicking his wrist so all the doors and windows flew open.

Sam quickly released Castiel, brandishing his badge as well and the seraph summoned his blade and swooped low over the ground, chasing people away from Ring B.

“Police,” Sam snarled. “You’re all under arrest!”

As expected, that got the crowd moving and people began fleeing towards exits, hiding their faces as Jo, Ellen, Bobby and Kevin flashed fake badges and waved their guns around intimidatingly. Crowley and Jo’s monster, a cream-winged seraph named Balthazar, took flight and began herding people towards exits, swiping blades at them every so often merely for effect as Sam and Dean sprinted towards the panel that controlled the West door to the glass arena. 

Suddenly, four guards raced towards Sam and Dean, large guns in their hands and Sam and Dean had to duck out of the way for fear of getting shot.

Gabriel and Castiel lifted two guards into the air and dropped them like rag dolls, distracting the other guards as they began taking pot shots at both angels.

Sam and Dean crept over to the panel again and Sam began entering the code he’d seen the guards use earlier but frowned when he heard a door release before he’d finished entering the code. He glanced up briefly and stiffened at the sight of the East door being opened by the booking attendant, an aggressive leviathan being hurled into the ring by a few spare staff members.

Sam watched as Michael tensed and dragged Lucifer to his feet, throwing his little brother behind him as he flared his wings threateningly at the hungry leviathan.

The booking attendant smirked and locked the door again before pulling a hand pistol from his pocket and speeding around the corner of the arena, towards the Winchesters.

Sam quickly typed in the last few digits of the code and the door slid open just as the guards returned their attention to him and Dean.

“Lucifer!” Shouted Sam as he and Dean began firing at the guards, dodging around the corner of the arena only to realise that put them directly in the path of the booking attendant.

The booking attendant suddenly dropped to the ground, unmoving and the Winchesters glanced to their right to find Ellen, Jo, Kevin and Bobby open firing on the staff members who had decided to stay and fight. Sam and Dean quickly joined in as Gabriel and Castiel impaled a couple of guards with satisfied smirks.

Lucifer paled at the gaping set of jaws staring back at him, two tongues slapping around the creature’s mouth like a couple of fish inside never-ending rows of shark teeth.

Michael gripped his blade tighter as the leviathan sprinted towards them and Lucifer willed his blade into his hand, grabbed his brother’s wrist and dragged him out of the arena. The leviathan was hot on their heels and Lucifer refused to give his brother a chance to break free and try to protect him from the creature because self-sacrifice was stupid in his opinion and he’d much rather have an alive brother than a dead one.

“Leave them!” Snarled Lucifer, shoving at Sam’s shoulder as he passed and the younger Winchester’s eyes widened before he placed a hand to his earpiece and over the racket of gunfire, yelled “Let’s go!”

Kevin, Jo and Ellen raced towards the nearest windows and bounded through and Bobby didn’t get a chance to find a window because Crowley swooped down and lifted him into the air, shooting through the door with ease.

Balthazar picked up a stray guard and dropped him on the rafters with a smirk before racing after his owner, leaving Gabriel and Castiel to grab the Winchesters and fly them back to the van.

The four angels and the Winchesters piled into the vehicle and Dean skidded out onto the road before anyone else could take a pot shot at them and they only relaxed once they reached the motel.

When Dean and Sam threw open the back doors of the van, their gazes softened at the sight of a newly-healed Michael wrapped in a blood-free (but still cut-up) Lucifer’s arms, Gabriel’s wings curled around them both as Castiel lay exhausted but happy over Michael’s lap. Wings fluttered and feathers fluffed up contentedly and when Michael stiffened at the sight of Sam and Dean, Lucifer, Gabriel and Cas were there to pet his wings and stroke his hair and squeeze his arms in reassurance.

Sam glanced at his brother in amusement.

“We’re gonna need a bigger house.”

 

* * *

 

Dean chuckled at the mess of angels on the living room floor.

Charlie had left a few hours ago and a whole day had passed since Michael’s rescue. It was now evening; some time past nine and the coffee table was littered with half-eaten plates of sandwiches and sweet treats the Winchesters had laid out earlier. Soft, relaxing jazz music played in the background (because despite Dean’s protests, ACDC was not suitable relaxing music) and the lights were dimmed as the angels sprawled over the floor, grooming one another and murmuring promises of never leaving one another again. They cuddled up to one another, wings brushing or wrapping around each other protectively and each of them smiled as they chatted softly. Cushions surrounded them like a chaotic nest and feathers littered the floor in a sea of colour.

“It’s like watching a bunch of confused mother hens fuss over one another’s chicks,” hummed Dean as Sam appeared with another round of hot drinks.

“Vacuuming’s going to be a nightmare,” commented Sam.

Dean quirked a grin. “We don’t even have enough chairs at the dining table.”

“Or enough beds,” agreed Sam.

“Do we have eight sets of plates and cutlery?” Grinned Dean.

“We have one bathroom between all of us.”

“We’re gonna have to start hoarding toilet paper.”

“Imagine the laundry loads.”

“We didn’t plan this at all,” laughed Dean and Sam chuckled with him.

“Guys, we’re angels,” drawled Gabriel. “You realise like… half of that stuff can be solved just by us clicking our fingers? The bed and bathroom stuff might be a problem but that’s because of space requirements and we can work around that. Afterall, we don’t exactly need showers when we can magic ourselves dressed.”

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” said Sam as he wandered further into the room and set the tray of drinks on the table. “Focus on grinding your feathers into our carpet.”

Gabriel snickered and returned to raking his fingers through Castiel’s wings. “You’re just jealous that you’re not as fabulous as us.” He flicked his wings dramatically, fluffing the feathers up and making Jack grin in delight as he toyed with the magnificent appendages.

Sam rolled his eyes and flopped onto the couch, Dean perching on the opposite one.

“I think we have an air mattress in the attic somewhere,” mused Dean. “It might need a bit of duct tape, but it’s a double. Stick a few blankets over it and it’ll be good to go.”

“And our beds are doubles so that’s two extra spaces,” said Sam.

“I volunteer to sleep with Samsquatch!” Gabriel called a little too enthusiastically, making Sam frown and Dean bite back laughter.

“Uh… I mean, I was thinking more you guys could have my bed and I’d sleep with Dean or something,” Sam said slowly.

“Aw come on, Sam,” smirked Dean. “Gabe’s excited about a sleepover with you. You’re not gonna let him down, are you?”

“Yeah, Sammykins,” chirped Gabriel. “Don’t let me down.”

Sam glanced between his brother and the archangel and even Castiel was cocking an eyebrow suspiciously at his brother.

“…If that’s what you want,” Sam said warily, feeling like there was an in-joke between the two that he wasn’t privy too.

Dean’s smirk widened as Gabriel’s wings fluttered.

“But that still leaves Dean with a spare space,” pointed out Sam and Gabriel piped up once more.

“Cas’ll have it.”

“He will?” Asked Castiel, bewildered as Dean’s face suddenly heated.

“He will,” agreed Gabriel, winking at his little brother. “Now, don’t forget to wear protection, kiddos.”

Sam snorted as Dean’s face flamed, Castiel’s mouth working open and closed a few times before he settled on shooting the archangel a dirty glare.

“Shut up, Gabriel.”

Gabriel grinned and returned his attention to the seraph’s wings, smiling when Castiel melted into his touches.

Sam shook his head in bemusement. “I’ll… go get the air mattress then.” He whirled on his heel and marched upstairs.

“I’ll get some blankets,” Dean said quickly, trying to find an excuse to leave the room now his mind was flashing thoughts of Castiel naked in his bed, Dean’s lips tracing over his skin, his fingers carding through raven feathers as the seraph’s hand tangled in his hair- 

No. He liked women. He’d always liked women. Castiel was his friend but he wasn’t attracted to the seraph. Gabriel was just trying to make them both flustered.

He scuttled out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Jack was asleep on Raphael’s lap, stretched over the couch as the dark-skinned angel stroked his wings gently, smiling as he listened to his brothers on the opposite couch.

Michael was lying in Lucifer’s arms, his younger brother’s wings curled around them both protectively. Michael glanced up at his brother’s face and he traced his fingers lightly over the wounds he’d caused earlier. Castiel hadn’t been able to heal them because they’d been caused by an angel blade, which made him feel even more ashamed because the seraph had healed his bruises and burns and battered wings.

He wrapped an arm around his brother and pressed his face into his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Michael whispered. “I’ll never forgive myself for hurting you.”

Lucifer frowned and squeezed the shorter archangel.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just thankful you recognised me. After seeing how that place treated you and what you had to suffer through… I wasn’t sure if you were going to remember any of us. Wasn’t sure if they’d break you.”

Michael focused on Lucifer’s warmth; on the soft, bronze feathers brushing his skin and the faint, smoky scent curling around him as he pressed his nose further into his brother’s neck. He tightened his grip on Lucifer’s shirt, still not entirely convinced any of this was real and he draped a wing over the other angel’s body, relishing the slow rise and fall of Lucifer’s chest with each breath.

“I could never forget you,” Michael murmured. “I thought about you four every morning and every evening. I hoped you were safe. Hoped you found one another one day.” He shifted uncomfortably. “As the years passed however, I… I suppose I became the creature they wanted me to become. It was easier that way. If I obeyed, I was fed. I didn’t get beaten quite so much.”

He closed his eyes contentedly when Lucifer combed a hand through his feathers.

“When I saw you in the ring… you were just another opponent. In those walls it was either kill or be killed and I didn’t take the time to actually look at you.” Michael sounded ashamed and guilty, so Lucifer twisted until they were both squished onto their sides, Lucifer’s arms and wings wrapped around Michael protectively, holding him flush to his chest.

“You’re safe now,” Lucifer murmured as Michael tucked his head under his younger brother’s chin. “We’re never letting you go again.”

Michael wriggled closer, curling his own wings around Lucifer until they were both a mess of silver and bronze feathers.

“…Can we trust the Winchesters?” He asked carefully. “What if they decide they don’t want us anymore?”

Lucifer was quiet for a moment before he began stroking a silver wing.

“I’ll admit, I’m not all that eager to trust the Winchesters either but they have been nothing but kind and respectful since my arrival. They are amongst the nicer humans.” He shrugged. “I may not trust them fully yet, but Castiel and Gabriel do. They must have good reason to.”

“Apparently, the Winchesters were very much like most other humans upon Gabriel and Castiel’s adoption,” piped up Raphael. “They’ve confessed to multiple accounts of cruelty as well as complete ignorance of how our kind is treated by the general public. I believe Castiel and Gabriel worked hard to show them their wrongdoings and the Winchesters have been trying to make up for their mistakes ever since.”

Michael scowled. “What kind of cruelty? Did they harm Gabriel and Castiel?”

Raphael shrugged lopsidedly. “They told me their abuse was more… verbal. Made them feel worthless, treated them like slaves and forced them to complete chores. Told them they were restricted from certain rooms. Although both have admitted to utilising their activators when Gabriel and Castiel tried to escape and again when Gabriel attempted to kill Dean.”

Both Michael and Lucifer bristled but Raphael remained calm. “However, Gabriel and Castiel saved a lot of lives at the sight of a terrorist attack and I think it made the Winchesters re-evaluate their judgements. It turned out Gabriel’s collar had a number of restrictions on it and despite experiencing high voltage shocks after every intense emotion or small use of his magic, he still healed and helped many people. Sam and Dean realised they had been wrong and after Castiel was willing to risk a holy oil injection to save Sam’s life from a rogue vetala, they started taking our brothers out on police cases. 

“Castiel and Gabriel taught them how to view their cases in a different way; how to catch the real criminals instead of blaming crimes on whatever monster was most convenient. I suppose they began to warm to each other after that and when Castiel’s collar malfunctioned, practically melting his skin off, the Winchesters promised them they would never have to wear an activated collar again. Sam and Dean have been defending our brothers against society for a while now. They treat them like equals both inside and outside the house and they won’t allow anyone to say a word against them. They’ve even reprimanded their boss for treating Gabriel and Castiel as though they’re beneath him.”

Raphael smiled fondly, placing his hand over Jack’s back. “They’re rather protective, actually.”

Michael and Lucifer shared a glance before settling down again.

“I think we need to have the Big Brother Talk with Sam,” murmured Lucifer. “Gabriel is smitten with him and we need to make sure Sam treats him right.”

Michael nodded solemnly as Raphael chuckled and shook his head.

“Sam is just as enamoured with our brother. Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said? The Winchesters are good humans. They’ve learned from their mistakes and they want to better themselves. Leave Sam be. He’ll take care of Gabe.”

“We should probably talk with Dean too, just in case he thinks he’s in Cas’ league,” said Lucifer, making a show of ignoring Raphael. Once again, Michael nodded, although there was a small, amused smile lighting his face.

Raphael huffed and sat up, gently waking Jack.

“Do not expect me to defend either of you if you get kicked out of the house,” he snorted, rubbing Jack’s back affectionately. “I’m going to bed.” He pulled Jack to his feet. “And I’m stealing your son because I like him better than the two of you,” he threw over his shoulder, making Jack’s wings flutter and a sleepy grin crawled over his face as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

Raphael took his hand and guided him upstairs.

“I like you too, Uncle Raph,” Lucifer heard Jack mumble as they disappeared. He smiled fondly before turning back to his older brother.

Michael yelped when Lucifer plucked him up off the couch and dumped him on the air bed in the middle of the living room. He chuckled when Lucifer crawled beside him, cocooning them both in blankets and a nest of pillows and cushions. He let himself be tugged into his younger brother’s chest, practically purring when Lucifer thrust his hands into his feathers and slid his wings around him once more.

Michael snuggled closer and closed his eyes happily, smirking when Lucifer clicked his fingers and turned out the lights. He threw an arm around his little brother and knew he was home.

 

* * *

 

Sam slipped into bed after Gabriel, refusing to admit to himself how much he liked the sight of the youngest archangel under his covers, looking peaceful and content.

He kept to his own side of the bed, ensuring to keep a gap between them and he rolled onto his side, facing away from the sleeping archangel.

Precisely two minutes later, a body wriggled up to him, plastered itself against his back and slung an arm around his middle.

He huffed and told himself he wasn’t supposed to enjoy Gabriel’s warmth, before rolling over and gently pushing Gabriel to the other side of the bed.

He faced the window again and shut his eyes.

Two minutes later, Gabriel snuggled into his back again, curling his wings around him as he slid an arm over his middle. Sam sighed.

“I know you’re awake, Gabe.”

The archangel cuddled closer. “I’m cold,” he said, despite it being July.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned over, slipping his arms around Gabriel. The angel grinned against his chest.

“Go to sleep,” Sam grumbled, resting his head on top of the archangel’s and trying not to think about how much he loved being cocooned in Gabriel’s fluffy wings.

A minute later, Gabriel’s hands slipped underneath Sam’s shirt.

“Gabriel,” Sam huffed.

“Just warming them up,” Gabriel said and Sam might have believed him if the archangel’s palms weren’t roasting his spine.

Gabriel began tracing circles against his skin and Sam grabbed his arms and pulled them out of his shirt.

“Stop it,” he grunted. Gabriel was making him think inappropriate things.

Another minute passed and Sam frowned at something rustling against the front of his shirt. Suddenly, lips were pressed against his bare chest.

His eyes flew open and he looked down to find Gabriel had unbuttoned his shirt and was mouthing kisses against his skin. He watched the archangel for a few moments, weighing up whether he should push Gabriel away or give in to the longing he’d been experiencing since that afternoon in the kitchen.

Gabriel’s eyes flicked upwards to meet his and he paused before the next kiss, awaiting Sam’s reaction.

Sam quickly realised why Gabriel had offered to sleep in his bed.

He shimmied down the pillow and tilted Gabriel’s head upwards so he could capture the archangel’s lips in a sweet kiss.

Gabriel smirked against his mouth and Sam couldn’t help but smile back in amusement. Sneaky archangel.

He rolled Gabriel onto his back as he straddled him and began peppering kisses over his jaw and face. Gabriel tangled his fingers in his hair and crushed their lips together heatedly, tongue lapping its way into his mouth until he could taste the human properly.

They pulled back for air and Sam gently cupped the angel’s cheek.

“I’m hoping this isn’t another one-time thing?” He breathed and Gabriel chuckled and shook his head.

“I was hoping last time wasn’t a one-time thing,” he winked and Sam grinned before diving down for another filthy kiss.

Their tongues brushed and Sam’s hands rode up to Gabriel’s own shirt (black with little cartoon Scooby Doos dotted all over it, because Gabriel was mature like that) and he slowly unbuttoned the archangel, hands roaming greedily over Gabriel’s skin. 

Gabriel shuddered against his touch before curling a hand around the back of his neck and tugging Sam closer. Their noses bumped and their teeth clashed but neither cared because they still couldn’t quite believe this was really happening.

Sam reached out to fist one of Gabriel’s wings and the archangel leaned into his touch, desperate for more as he splayed his hand over the human’s back.

They broke the kiss long enough for Sam to lean down and latch onto the angel’s throat, kissing it and nuzzling it as his fingers carded through golden feathers.

Gabriel whined quietly and the noise threw Sam off-guard. He kneeled backwards to frown at the archangel and Gabriel stared back at him in confusion.

“Sam?” He asked softly, maybe a little insecurely and Sam blinked down at Gabriel before brushing a thumb over his cheek and settling over him once more.

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” Whispered Sam worriedly and the archangel stared at him as though he’d sprouted three heads.

“…Sure.”

Sam frowned lightly but leaned down again to kiss and mouth at the angel’s throat. He nuzzled his collar bones and trailed his lips down to his chest, kissing and nipping teasingly at the smooth skin. He nuzzled a nipple before kissing it and moving onto the opposite one, nipping at it playfully before continuing downwards, both hands fisting Gabriel’s tertiary wings.

He peppered more kisses over the angel’s stomach, smiling at its softness and nosing at it just to feel Gabriel’s warm skin against his own. He scraped his teeth lightly over the hips peeking over the top of Gabriel’s waistband, but then frowned when he realised Gabriel was oddly silent.

He glanced up to find the archangel gazing at him with wide, glassy eyes and, alarmed, Sam bolted upright and cupped the archangel’s face.

“Gabe? What’s wrong?”

Gabriel shook his head, hands coming to rest over Sam’s. “No one’s ever… I didn’t expect…” He swallowed thickly. “Don’t stop,” he finally settled on and Sam licked his dry lips in realisation.

Sex had never been a good experience for Gabriel. It usually ended with him hurt or feeling worthless because no one cared how a monster prostitute felt. No one cared if they left him bloodied and broken at the end of the session. Gabriel had been taught sex was only for his partner’s pleasure and it was normal for him to be abused or ridiculed by his partners. No one had ever taken care of Gabriel. No one had ever set out to please him.

Sam was going to change that right now.

“Lie back,” ordered Sam softly. “Arms by your side.”

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow but did as he was told.

“You thought I was going to thrust into you hard and rough and get myself off in a few minutes?” Murmured Sam as he settled over Gabriel’s body and the archangel tilted his head at the human. It was obvious that was exactly what he had assumed.

He raised a hand, poising to click. “If you don’t like the idea of doing it with a man, I can change into-”

“Hands down and by your side, Trickster,” whispered Sam as he kissed Gabriel’s cheek and the angel quirked his lips in amusement.

“Trickster?”

“If you can give me pet names, I get to give you one,” hummed Sam. He stroked Gabriel’s hair affectionately, smiling when Gabriel leaned into his palm. The archangel was still incredibly touch-starved and Sam was determined to rectify the issue.

“Relax,” murmured Sam as he slithered down Gabriel’s body to worship his chest and stomach with kisses. His hands slid down to Gabriel’s hips, holding them possessively as he made sure to kiss every inch of the archangel’s skin. After a little while, he moved onto Gabriel’s arms, kissing his shoulders and nuzzling the insides of his elbows before travelling lower to kiss his wrists and suck his fingers playfully.

Gabriel’s breathing grew fractured and uneven and Sam didn’t stop. He moved onto Gabriel’s wing, peppering kisses over the feathers and when he reached the secondary wing, he began mouthing words into it.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Gorgeous.”

He nuzzled at the feathers and raked a hand through them. “Never met anyone like you.” He moved onto the smaller tertiary.

“You’re so funny and your smile is so bright.” He kissed the feathers adoringly. “You make everyone around you happy. Always so caring and protective over your family.”

He stroked the wing repeatedly, watching it quiver beneath his touch. “I want you. I want to give you everything. Show you everything. Treat you like a king.”

Gabriel’s breaths hitched as Sam moved onto the other wings, whispering more endearments and words of affection as he doted on the appendages. A little while later, Sam pulled backwards slightly to look at the angel.

Gabriel looked wrecked. His eyes were squeezed shut and tear tracks rolled down his face, dry but still present. His wings trembled and his fists were clenched, face red. Oil dribbled down his wings, glinting under the moonlight peeking through the curtains.

Sam’s gaze softened and he rolled off the angel, sitting upright on his side of the bed as he pulled Gabriel into his lap and held the broken archangel close. He kissed his hair and forehead and smiled when Gabriel snuggled closer, burying his face into Sam’s neck as he attempted to control his breathing.

Sam stroked his back and closed his eyes, listening to the archangel’s quiet breaths and the gentle rustling of his wings as they shook with emotion.

“I promise I’m not usually this bad at sex,” whispered Gabriel and Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not up for. Honestly? I’m happy holding you.”

Gabriel relaxed into him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “This wasn’t what I had planned at all.”

Sam kissed his head noisily. “So, you admit you planned this? You admit to setting this all up so you could get into my pants?” He teased.

Gabriel huffed out a laugh and nodded. “Dean wouldn’t let me jump you in the back of the van so I had to make a Plan B.”

“I knew you were conspiring with Dean,” grumbled Sam, but he didn’t mind because Gabriel was currently in his arms and they had already confessed they didn’t want this to be a one-time deal.

Gabriel began tracing patterns over Sam’s bare stomach.

“I was planning on really hot, intense sex where we moaned each other’s names and clutched each other’s hair as I rode you and once we were done, I was gonna suck you off in round two.”

Sam snorted and squeezed the angel gently.

“You don’t take anything slow, do you?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Maybe I will with you. Don’t think I’ve ever had a crush before and I want to savour it.”

“A crush? Is that all I am?” Smirked Sam as he kissed Gabriel’s cheek sloppily.

The angel grinned and slipped his arms around Sam.

After a few minutes, Sam eyed the oil trickling over Gabriel’s feathers. He reached up to smooth the oil into the skin beneath and felt Gabriel shiver as he pressed closer to Sam.

“Roll over,” chuckled Sam and Gabriel eagerly complied, staring up at the human in excitement when Sam straddled him once more.

He thrust his hands deep into Gabriel’s feathers, manipulating the muscles and massaging the oil into each wing. Gabriel groaned in approval and Sam leaned down to kiss him heatedly. Gabriel kissed back eagerly, lapping inside Sam’s mouth once more and the angel smirked when Sam rolled his hips, slow and teasing so their thinly-clothed crotches rubbed together.

Gabriel threw his arms around Sam’s back and marvelled at the feeling of the younger man’s strong, warm body above his, hands tugging at his wings as the human rutted against him.

He gasped when Sam dipped a finger inside his oil gland, scissoring it open and toying with it until oil flowed freely down the appendage. Sam chuckled into his mouth.

“You smell like maple syrup,” he whispered.

Gabriel grinned. “It’s my unique oil scent.”

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell?” Hummed Sam innocently and Gabriel barely had time to process that statement before the human had his tongue pressed inside his oil gland, lapping and sucking and nipping until Gabriel was writhing against the pillows.

“Sam,” he gasped as the hunter plunged a finger into the oil gland in his secondary wing. His hips jerked upwards as his back arched and he brushed against Sam’s hardening length and let out a desperate sound.

Sam lapped inside his raw gland relentlessly, nipping it every so often and Gabriel keened and wrapped his legs around Sam’s hips, rutting against him frantically whilst wishing there was nothing separating the lower half of their bodies.

Mind made up, Gabriel rolled Sam’s sleeping pants down and tore off his own boxers before sliding his own erection against Sam’s.

Sam hissed and thrust against Gabriel deeply and the angel groaned at the friction. They rutted desperately against one another for a few minutes before Sam suddenly pulled off the archangel and sat upright against the pillows, dragging Gabriel onto his lap.

He crushed their lips together, claiming his mouth before wrapping his fist around Gabriel’s straining length.

He slid his hand up and down, firm but slow, brushing his thumb over the head before sliding back down again. With his free hand, he tangled his fingers in Gabriel’s hair, tugging lightly.

Gabriel immediately mirrored his movements, clutching Sam’s hair as he jerked the human’s erection and they panted into one another’s mouths, quickening their rhythm before finally finding release.

After a few moments of catching their breaths, Gabriel cleaned them both up with a click of his fingers and Sam peppered kisses over Gabriel’s jaw as they slid down the bed, relaxing against the pillows. Gabriel lay his head on Sam’s shoulder, curling into him as Sam wrapped his arms around him and petted his back tenderly.

“Sleep,” murmured Sam as Gabriel snuggled into him. “We’ll talk about everything in the morning.”

Gabriel smiled and closed his eyes. He had his brothers back and a couple of humans who genuinely liked them. And now, he had a lover who took care of him.

He wondered if this is what happiness felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sabriel down, destiel to go ;)


	16. Chapter 16

“I suggest using the tweezers for the spiders. Just keep the lid low and try not to spill water over them. They’ll bite if you put your hand in. Well, except for the pink toe; she’s pretty friendly,” Hannah said as Castiel pulled out the first spider box, home to a Goliath bird eater. He opened the lid carefully and used the tweezers to grab the water bowl, smiling when the spider placed a leg on the bowl and tried to pull it back down. It was approximately the size of his palm and caramel-coloured and after a few seconds, it relinquished its grip on the bowl.

“I’m impressed,” hummed Hannah when he returned the refilled bowl into the box. “People who visit us usually get freaked out by the spiders. You seem quite relaxed.”

Castiel chuckled and pulled out the next box. “I try my best to understand animals; how they feel when we interact with them, what the world looks like to them. If I try to understand their ‘language’, there’s no reason to be afraid.”

Hannah smiled, pleased. “I like you a lot more than the last angel who worked here. Bartholomew. He was very… abrasive. Treated me like I was a traitor or something just because I like my human. I don’t get it because his owner was actually really nice. Monster sympathiser, you know? Anyway, after the spiders, you can help me with the new delivery of frogs.”

Castiel quirked a grin at Hannah. He enjoyed the other angel’s company. She was chatty and friendly and had interests in animals and art and books just like he did. She was actually rather similar to him and her subtle, playful flirting often had him smiling. It was obvious she only considered him as a friend, but Castiel enjoyed their teasing of one another and it made Victoria happy to see them getting along, so there was no harm in it.

He was now working five-day weeks with a half-day on Wednesday and four of the days, he shared with Hannah. He looked forward to seeing her and Victoria had mentioned Hannah appeared more chipper and enthusiastic for work since he’d joined them.

He finished filling the water bowls for the spiders and locked them away again before following Hannah to the store room, where the new frogs were waiting to be placed in their vivariums.

“Oh, Vicky wants you to socialise the Tegu later,” Hannah said and Castiel groaned. If there was one animal he hated in the shop, it was the Tegu. It had bitten him six times in the span of two months and leapt on his wings once when he was cleaning its enclosure, where it had pulled out a mass of feathers before Hannah had managed to capture it and throw it back into its enclosure.

“Why do I have to socialise him?” Protested Castiel and Hannah giggled and tapped his cheek.

“Because you wouldn’t want me to get hurt, would you? You love me far too much to put me in danger.” She sauntered towards the door with her three boxes of frogs. Castiel trailed after her with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m new. The animals don’t know me yet and they would be much happier being handled by a familiar face.”

Hannah snorted and shoved him with a snowy wing. “That Tegu hates everyone and no one wants to handle it. That’s why we’re giving it to you; because you’re new and haven’t been bitten half as much as we have.”

“So, you _want_ me to injure myself?” Teased Castiel. “You find my pain amusing?”

Hannah paused for a moment, turning to regard him thoughtfully.

“Yes,” she said.

Then she grinned and whirled on her heel, marching towards the vivariums.

Castiel shook his head in amusement and followed.

 

* * *

 

At five o’clock, Dean parked up outside the pet shop, admiring his car fondly before wandering into the shop. He nodded at Victoria, who eyed him disinterestedly before returning to whatever was so interesting about the till.

Dean rolled his eyes. She still didn’t particularly like him and he had no idea why. She liked Castiel though, so that was okay.

There was a thud and a crash from the reptile room and the sound of Hannah and Castiel laughing as a strange, angry chittering noise rang out throughout the shop. Dean frowned in concern as Hannah jogged into the main part of the store, a weird squirrel-looking thing clinging onto her wing for dear life as it squeaked and grumbled at her. Castiel was hot on her heels, trying to snag the creature, but the thing kept slapping a paw at him and jumping from one part of the wing to another.

The pair trotted to a huge cage filled with ledges and ramps and toys and Hannah pressed her wing into the entrance of the cage, groaning when the creature quickly hopped out of the way and climbed onto the back of her wing. Castiel snagged the creature and hissed when it bit him angrily. He threw it into the cage, watching it chunner furiously at him before crawling inside its cloth pouch and ignoring the rest of the world.

Hannah looked at her chaotic feathers in dismay before turning to Castiel and inspecting the bite wound on his index finger.

“You okay?” She asked, holding his hand gently as she let her grace trickle into the wound, healing him.

Castiel smiled. “Thank you,” he murmured before chuckling at the state of her wing. She pouted at him until he removed a few broken feathers and he smoothed out a few particularly unruly ones.

“I hate Sugar gliders,” she decided and Castiel shook his head before finally noticing Dean standing in the entrance. He straightened and smiled at the human, confused when Dean looked… irritated by something.

“See you tomorrow, Cas,” Hannah said as she dusted herself off and Castiel brushed the wood shavings from her hair before nodding.

“Do not open that cage,” Castiel warned playfully and Hannah smirked and fingered the cage door of the Sugar glider.

“I love it when you take control like that,” she purred, fluffing her messy wings ridiculously as she bit her lip. “Talk dirty to me.”

Castiel dropped his voice a few tones. “Don’t make me punish you,” he growled, deep and gravelly.

“Spank me, Daddy,” Hannah whispered, making Victoria roll her eyes.

“Castiel, go home before I throw up,” she ordered and Castiel ducked his head in embarrassment as Hannah snickered and batted him with a wing.

“Take me tomorrow in the cat food aisle,” she called as he shuffled over to Dean. “Between the worming treatment and the catnip.”

Castiel snorted. “Would you not rather we do it in the bird aisle, so you can entertain yourself with the bells?”

Hannah laughed. “One time! I only did it once because we had some new toys in!”

“They’re for the birds to play with. Not you,” teased Castiel as he followed Dean out of the shop and he could practically feel Hannah sticking her tongue out at him behind his back.

He slipped into the Impala with a grin, but it faded when he noticed Dean’s sour expression.

He frowned worriedly. “Dean?”

“I’m fine,” grumbled Dean before speeding away from the shop.

Castiel leaned back in his seat and wondered why he felt like he was missing something obvious.

 

* * *

 

 _“See you tomorrow, Cas.”_ Dean mimicked Hannah’s voice, curling his lips in distaste as he threw open the fridge and grabbed a beer. _“I love it when you take control like that.”_ He scowled at his bottle and ripped the cap off more aggressively than he’d intended to.

He grumbled to himself before taking a swig of his beer. He wasn’t sure why Hannah rubbed him up the wrong way, but she did and he didn’t like it when Castiel kept touching her. He didn’t stop to think about his feelings though, because Dean Winchester didn’t do that sort of thing; the girly stuff was Sam’s thing. It’s why he had such long hair; he liked to braid it on weekends and talk about his emotions with a tub of ice cream.

Dean smirked at the image that brought to his mind and he shook his head and headed into the living room. Whatever. Castiel could be friends with whomever he wanted and Dean had no right to stop him, even if he didn’t like Hannah.

“Hey, Sammy. Anything good on- Oh come on! Seriously? On the couch? The couch we sit on?” Dean stood in the middle of the room, scowling at the sight of Sam and Gabriel rutting against one another; Sam on his back and the archangel draped over him, mouths locked together and fingers fisted in hair or feathers.

Gabriel pulled back from Sam to raise an eyebrow at the older hunter. “Not to be rude, but… kind of in the middle of something. Come back later, yeah?”

Dean stood his ground, jabbing a finger at the pair.

“No. No. _No._ You have a bed. Use it. Do not desecrate that couch.”

Gabriel sagged. “Come on, Dean.”

“I gave you approval to date my brother. Do not make me take it back. Go upstairs.”

Sam chuckled and kissed his lover’s neck affectionately. “He’s right. Let’s go.”

Gabriel let himself be dragged upstairs by Sam and Dean could hear them snickering to themselves as they shared heated kisses on the way to their room. There was a light thud as someone’s back hit the wall and then they finally made it through the door.

Dean glared holes into the couch, foul mood returning.

Sam and Gabriel were always together. Dean had lost count of the number of times he had caught them sucking on each other’s faces. He was sick of seeing them grope one another. Tired of watching them flirt all the time. And if he had to witness them whispering into each other’s ear, or holding one another as they chatted quietly, or even gazing at one another like the stars had aligned in their eyes one more time, Dean was going to… he was going to…

Sigh. And wonder why his heart ached so much.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and looked around the empty room. Had he always been this lonely? A house full of people and no one to talk to. It probably didn’t help that he had a face on him that would stop an army in its tracks. He trudged over to the couch and collapsed onto it. What was wrong with him? Why was he so miserable?

Maybe he should go to a bar tonight and pick up a chick. Tomorrow was his off-day, so there was no reason he couldn’t. He perked up at the thought. Boobs and booze sounded like a great idea. He glanced at the bottle in his hands and decided it would be the last one until tonight.

He finally smiled and leaned back against the couch, wondering what type of girl he would pick up. He hoped it was one with pretty sapphire eyes. And ebony hair. Or maybe just really dark brown hair. Either would be fine as long as she had smooth, tanned skin. 

Tonight was going to be awesome.

 

* * *

 

“He’ll be fine, Cas,” reassured Gabriel as he shrugged his jacket on. “Lighten up. Go draw something. Watch some cat videos. Just stop moping, alright?”

Castiel shot his brother a filthy glare. “I’m not moping.”

“Yes, you are,” deadpanned Lucifer as he and Michael played with Jack. Sam had recently bought the nephilim a bunch of little plastic animals and the kid only stopped playing with them to eat, and getting him to do that was a struggle.

Castiel rolled his eyes and Gabriel chuckled. “Don’t know what you’re upset about anyway. You two have been sleeping in the same bed now for weeks and neither of you have even groped each other under the sheets despite the mounting UST between you two. I don’t get why you’re so bothered about sleeping alone last night.”

Castiel bristled, wings twitching irritably. “Unlike you, brother, fortunately, my brain isn’t located in my nether regions. I’m not ‘upset’, I’m confused. Dean usually tells at least one of us where he is if he’s not going to be home at his usual time.”

“Is that you speaking as a concerned friend or a suspicious lover?” Snickered Gabriel and Castiel’s scowl deepened, his wings flaring in warning. As usual, Gabriel ignored him and his face brightened when Sam trotted downstairs, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“…Everything alright?” Asked Sam carefully as he reached the bottom step and spotted Castiel’s stormy glare towards his lover.

“Cas is just fretting over why Dean didn’t spoon him in bed last night,” chirped Gabriel, making Lucifer snort and Castiel’s wings ruffle.

Sam frowned lightly and made his way towards Gabriel. “I just got a text from Dean, actually. Apparently, he picked up some chick at a local bar and stayed the night at hers.”

Gabriel’s grin quickly faded as he watched Castiel’s expression fall into one of hurt before it quickly smoothed over into neutrality.

“Good for him,” Castiel said, rather curtly before whirling on his heel and marching upstairs.

Gabriel and Sam watched him leave before sharing a knowing glance.

“I can’t say anything because they’re not actually… y’know…” shrugged Sam helplessly and Gabriel sighed and shook his head.

“I know, kiddo.” He squeezed Sam’s shoulder gently and gestured to the door. “Come on. I’ve got some doughnuts to bake.”

Sam quirked a smile and threaded his fingers between Gabriel’s as they padded towards Sam’s Prius (which Dean loathed every inch of). Gabriel’s boss didn’t like it when he was late to the bakery and Sam had no intention of getting his lover fired.

 

* * *

 

The next weekend saw Dean stumbling into the house at two in the morning, sloppy smile glued in place and hair ruffled from where someone had slid their hands through it. His cheeks were rosy from drink and his shirt was buttoned wrong, belt not quite catching all the loops.

Michael, Lucifer and Castiel (who had been sleeping beside them because he didn’t want to sleep in Dean’s bed when the hunter wasn’t actually there) all startled awake and Michael raised his wings in front of his brothers defensively.

Dean kicked his shoes off at the door and threw his jacket over the hook clumsily, still grinning before noticing he wasn’t alone.

There was lipstick on his collar and too-sweet-perfume clung to his skin, mixing with the alcohol to create a nauseating stench.

“Oh, hey, guys,” Dean slurred, offering them an aborted wave. “How long’ve you lived here?”

The angels refused to grace that with an answer. Castiel couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the pale pink lipstick smeared over his shirt and his gut churned, heart aching.

“You had a good night?” Castiel asked softly, making Lucifer and Michael glance at him sorrowfully.

Dean beamed. “The best. You shoulda seen her, man. She was sooooo pretty.”

“I see,” murmured Castiel, glancing away. Things between him and Dean had been tense, lately and Castiel wasn’t sure why. Whenever he came home from the pet shop, Dean was in a sour mood and he would often rectify it by putting distance between them, drinking himself into liver failure or picking up a girl from a local bar. In turn, this made Castiel’s chest twist and ache with a longing he didn’t fully understand and he would put even more distance between them until he cooled down and worked his own feelings out, which served only to make Dean more self-destructive. He wasn’t sure what had gone wrong between them but he didn’t know how to fix it.

Dean frowned. “Why’re you sleepin’ down here?”

Castiel glanced up at the human before lowering his wings. “I didn’t feel it right to use your bed when you weren’t here.”

Dean’s frown deepened and he waved his hand messily. “Our bed, Cas. Not just mine anymore. Course you can sleep in our bed.”

Castiel didn’t reply, averting his gaze because the lipstick stain was beginning to make him feel angry. After everything he and Dean had been through together; all the risks they’d taken, all the learning to understand one another, all the cases they’d worked together and the deep friendship they’d developed… why did some nameless, generic female human get to touch Dean’s body? Why did she get to kiss Dean? Why did she get to experience Dean’s hands on her, roaming and exploring every inch of her skin and Castiel was left forgotten by the wayside and apparently on thin ice with the human?

Why couldn’t Dean want _him?_

He blinked in realisation and suddenly, all the aching and anger at Dean this past week made sense. 

He was jealous. Of a girl he’d never even met.

In hindsight, he probably should have worked it out sooner, but he had never been attracted to a human before and he’d just assumed he never would be. 

His wings drooped in disappointment. Dean would never be interested in him. One; he was male, and two; they weren’t even the same species. Dean would never settle for something non-human. That’s why he went for the girls at the bar.

Dean looked as though his mind had wandered, if his goofy grin was anything to go by. When he noticed the angels still staring at him, he chuckled and shook his head slowly.

“Guys, she had such beautiful eyes,” he sighed and Castiel’s stomach twisted. He couldn’t listen to this.

“Like deep, blue oceans you could get lost in forever,” Dean hummed and Castiel made to get up, to leave, but Lucifer suddenly curled an arm around his stomach and pinned him to his chest. Castiel scowled and struggled against his grip, but Lucifer just held tighter.

“And her hair… so soft and silky. So dark it was almost black, but not quite,” smiled Dean wistfully. Castiel glared at his brother. Why was Lucifer making him sit through this? Lucifer stared down at him pointedly before shifting his attention back to Dean.

“She was tall and her lips… pink and a little chapped, but so warm and pliant.” Dean’s gaze skirted over Castiel for a brief moment before he grinned again.

Castiel paused as Lucifer and Michael smirked.

“Sounds a little like a female Cas,” said Michael innocently and Dean’s eyes widened as he nodded enthusiastically.

“I know, right? And she was so into animals! Really loved them.” Here, Dean smiled affectionately. “Loved art too. Had loads of stuff she’d painted hanging on her walls.” He scrunched up his nose. “Wasn’t as good as Cas’ stuff, mind you.” He glanced at Castiel sadly. “I wish you’d show me your stuff more often. You’re ten times better than her and we should hang some of your work.”

Castiel swallowed thickly, pulse racing.

When he didn’t reply, Dean shrugged and checked his wrist for a watch that wasn’t there.

“It’s getting late,” he declared, squinting at his bare arm. “I’m going to bed. You guys should probably go home soon.” He nodded at the archangels before walking into the kitchen. Then he quickly returned from the kitchen with a frown. “Who moved the stairs?”

“Over there, tiger,” Lucifer smirked, gesturing towards the staircase and Dean saluted sloppily before crawling up the steps.

“Well, that was educational,” drawled Lucifer, arm still wrapped around Castiel.

The seraph blinked and glanced between his two amused brothers.

“It could just be coincidence,” said Michael solemnly. “Afterall, there must be thousands of tall, ocean-blue-eyed, not-quite-black-haired, pink-chapped-lipped people who enjoy art and animals.”

“You’re probably right, brother,” hummed Lucifer. “I mean, Dean most likely has a type. It’s nothing to do with the fact that he’s been sleeping beside a tall, ocean-blue-eyed, not-quite-black-haired, pink-chapped-lipped angel who enjoys art and animals for the past few weeks. Just a coincidence, right?”

Michael and Lucifer levelled Castiel with pointed stares.

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I get the picture.”

“Are you going to do something about it though?” Pressed Lucifer.

Castiel frowned. “I’m not going to race upstairs and jump him if that’s what you mean.”

Lucifer sagged in disappointment.

Michael quirked a small smile. “Maybe it would be best to ease him into the idea. Dean doesn’t strike me as the type of human who has considered a relationship with other males before. I feel like that would be an intimidating hurdle for him.”

Lucifer scowled. “It’s just the same junk inside out.”

Michael snorted. “Humans are… shallow. They have strange taboos.”

“Whilst we’re discussing my sex life,” huffed Castiel, making his brothers grin, “there’s also the small problem of me not being human.”

This time, Michael frowned. “Why would that be a problem?”

Castiel stretched out a massive wing. “Dean might be a little put off by these.”

“Everyone loves a bit of wing kink,” snorted Lucifer. “He’ll be fine with them.”

Castiel’s eyes rolled heavenward. “Dean has only recently learned to tolerate monsters. I’m not convinced he’ll be open to a relationship with anything that has more limbs than he has.”

“At least you don’t have tentacles,” shrugged Lucifer. Michael batted him over the head with a wing.

“At least try to be helpful,” he chided before returning his gaze to Castiel. “The only way you’ll know is if you ask him. Ask if he’d be open to a relationship. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

Castiel balked at the idea. “Michael… we’re not exactly on the best of terms at the moment. Dean is… distant. Our conversations are stunted and more often than not, I seem to aggravate him, particularly when he takes me to and picks me up from the shop. Even if he is subconsciously attracted to me, it looks as though he’s trying to avoid me. Maybe he doesn’t want me and he’s trying to ignore his feelings.”

Michael and Lucifer frowned. 

“That’s ridiculous,” huffed Lucifer. “Why wouldn’t he want you? You’re way out of his league. He should be begging for your attention.” Lucifer cocked his head. “Maybe he thinks he’s not good enough for you. I personally think you could do way better.”

He yelped when Michael smacked a wing into the side of his head again.

“Ignore him,” said Michael, focusing on Castiel. “You said his behaviour is more exaggerated when you’re at the shop with him?”

Castiel nodded. “I know the owner doesn’t like him very much, but I don’t see why that should affect him. He’s brushed off worse.”

Michael contemplated the information for a moment. “Maybe I should accompany you next time he picks you up? I might be able to understand his thought process.”

Castiel perked up. Michael hadn’t left the house since arriving here all those weeks ago.

“You’re willing to leave the house?” He asked excitedly and even Lucifer looked surprised.

Michael smiled weakly. “I can’t be afraid forever. I’ve got to face the world at some point, like you all did.”

Castiel and Lucifer’s wings fluttered excitedly and Michael chuckled as Lucifer slipped three wings around them all. For an archangel who claimed to be averse to touch, Lucifer was rather affectionate.

“I’d like that,” Castiel grinned and Michael chuckled and slipped his arms around the seraph, tucking him into his chest as Lucifer snuggled up behind their little brother. He’d missed this. He’d missed having his family surrounding him.

He closed his eyes and relaxed into the warmth of his brothers.

 

* * *

 

Michael could see the tension in Dean’s shoulders as they neared the pet shop. The hunter had been a little off since climbing into the car, but now Michael could feel the aggravation rolling off him in waves.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide how nervous Dean’s mood was making him feel. In his experience, humans in bad moods usually resulted in monsters getting punished. Castiel had promised Dean and Sam would never hurt them, but Michael wasn’t so convinced; Dean looked like he wanted to break something. Michael just hoped it wasn't him.

They pulled up outside the pet shop and Dean slid out of the car wordlessly, marching up to the door grimly before pausing and turning to Michael in realisation. He walked back to the car and gestured for the archangel to follow him, so Michael did, taking a deep breath before flinging the car door open and stepping out into the sunlight. He looked around the street warily, trying to spot any humans who might want to capture him and shove him in another fighting ring or breeding facility, but this part of the street was free of pedestrians. He relaxed a little and glanced at Dean, who was waiting patiently for him near the entrance of the shop. He smiled reassuringly when Michael approached and opened the door for the archangel.

Michael stepped through, Dean following and immediately, he felt the hunter tense beside him.

Michael wasn’t paying that much attention though.

His eyes were glued to the gorgeous seraph with pure white wings and sapphire eyes before him. She was laughing at Castiel, her voice sweet and melodic like a Princess’ out of one of those Disney films Jack loved so much. She brushed her dark, wavy hair from her face and despite it being riddled with what appeared to be cockatiel feathers, she looked radiant.

Castiel was currently on the floor, beneath the cockatiel cage and covered in a mess of feathers, sand and something that looked a lot like bird faeces. The removable bird tray was perched upside down in his lap and one cockatiel had escaped the cage and was making itself quite comfortable on Castiel’s head.

Castiel looked rather grumpy.

Hannah laughed harder before he shot her a glare and she took pity on him. She gently guided the bird back into its cage and pulled Castiel to his feet. She placed a hand on his shoulder and cleaned him of the chaos and his gaze softened in appreciation before he plucked a few feathers from her hair. She grinned and handed him the discarded tray and he rolled his eyes before refilling it with sand and carefully replacing it into the cage.

Hannah smiled in approval and Michael felt his throat go dry at the expression. Castiel had told his brothers of Hannah but Michael had never realised just how stunning she was. Why hadn’t Castiel informed him of the other seraph’s captivating eyes, or her ravishing wings?

The two seraphs made their way towards the entrance and smiled upon seeing Dean, but Hannah froze at the sight of Michael. Her gaze roamed over his body and suddenly, her wings raised high, feathers fluffing up as a rosy hue coloured her cheeks. She knocked Castiel with one and he frowned at her in confusion for a moment before his eyebrows shot upwards and he glanced between Michael’s intense gaze and Hannah’s embarrassed one.

He bit back a smirk.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greeted and Dean nodded tersely before gesturing to the door.

Michael wasn’t ready to leave just yet. “Little brother, where are your manners?” He chided quietly. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Castiel blinked before a smile tugged at his lips. “Apologies. Michael, this is the colleague and friend I was talking about, Hannah. Hannah, this is one of my least irritating brothers.”

Hannah arched an eyebrow, gaze never leaving Michael. “You were talking about me? All good things, I hope?”

Micheal’s secondary wings (because he’d had to hide his other pairs to make himself look like a seraph) swung behind his back, slightly raised and poised in the picture of a true gentleman. He straightened, a charming smile lighting his expression. 

“I don’t believe there is anything bad to be said about perfection.”

Hannah’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ before her face flushed and her feathers ruffled, shy but flattered. She batted her eyelashes at Michael and the archangel clasped his hand behind him, pleased.

Castiel’s eyes rolled into the back of his skull.

“Someone find me a bucket.”

“Please excuse Castiel’s dreadful manners. Apparently, he doesn’t know how to appreciate true beauty,” said Michael and Hannah’s wings fluttered as a grin crawled across her face.

“Apparently, he likes to keep secrets about his smoking hot brothers, too,” she winked and Michael’s heart performed a backflip. 

“I’ve never felt so disgusted in my entire life,” Castiel piped up, once again going ignored.

Hannah jogged towards the till and found an old receipt. She scribbled a series of numbers onto its clean side and shuffled towards Michael.

“I don’t know if you have a phone or if you’re allowed to use the house phone,” here, her gaze shifted to Dean and back to Michael again, “but if you are, um… that’s my number. Call me sometime.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing up at Michael from under long, dark eyelashes and he gripped the paper tightly, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

“It will be the highlight of my day,” he said and Hannah’s wings fluttered again before she took a step backwards.

“Or, y’know, come visit the shop again sometime.”

Michael nodded once. “I’ll endeavour to do so.”

Castiel gently batted Hannah with a wing. “I’m not working the shop alone whilst you two sit in the corner and clog up the atmosphere with UST.” He used air quotations at the word ‘UST’.

“Shut up, brother,” Michael muttered, gaze still fixed on Hannah.

Castiel clamped his mouth shut and made his way over to Dean, who was glancing between the three angels with a puzzled expression.

“…I’ll see you later,” Michael murmured, gaze roaming over Hannah’s figure once more before he tipped his head slightly and slowly followed Dean and Castiel out of the shop, Hannah grinning after him.

The two angels slid into the back seat as Dean fired up the engine and Castiel arched an amused eyebrow at Michael’s far-away expression.

The drive home was silent and when they made it through the front door, Dean had to race upstairs to throw his uniform on as he had a shift that started in an hour. Castiel waited for him to leave before turning to Michael.

“I don’t suppose you figured out why Dean has been distant with me recently?” He asked quietly and Michael lowered himself gracefully onto the couch, smoothing his fingers over the receipt Hannah had given him.

“Hm?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Did you work out why Dean is avoiding me?” He shook his head at Michael’s distracted expression and sighed, fully intending on finding a thick novel so he could ignore the world for a while.

“Oh… He thought you and Hannah were an item and he was jealous because he wants you. Now he’s confused because Hannah gave me her number in front of you and he’s not sure if he made a mistake in thinking you two were together.” Michael brushed his thumb over Hannah’s digits with a small smile.

Castiel blinked, eyes widening. Michael’s extra pairs of wings shimmered into view and he frowned at them in concern before glancing up at Castiel.

“Do you think Hannah would still like me if she knew I was an archangel?”

Castiel stared at his brother.

“…Why would he think Hannah and I were a couple?”

Michael huffed. “Humans are incredibly emotional creatures. Their actions often have no logic or reasoning to them and I wouldn’t concern myself with trying to figure out their idiosyncrasies.” He tilted his head. “Do you think I have a chance with Hannah?”

Castiel nodded slowly before his gaze drifted towards the stairs. Dean was… jealous?

Of Hannah?

Castiel’s mood lifted and a small smile graced his features. That meant his feelings were returned, however subconsciously on Dean’s part.

So… how did he get Dean to see that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh... this chapter took too long to write and I have no idea why.


	17. Chapter 17

“Every time you’re off and I have a case, I get paired with Walker,” griped Dean and Sam chuckled to himself as he pulled another load of laundry out of the tumble drier.

“That’s because you’re the only one who isn’t terrified of him.”

Dean snorted. “Gordon has issues, but he ain’t that scary.”

Sam pulled a face. “He’s a little intimidating. I’ve worked a few cases with him and he’s pretty vicious. I don’t think he likes me all that much.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Gordon, too?”

Sam shrugged. “I just don’t like the guy. He loves his gun a little too much.”

“Can’t argue with that,” hummed Dean before grimacing. “He’s not fond of anything non-human either.”

“That’s an understatement,” scoffed Sam as he placed the laundry beside the ironing board. 

Gabriel watched Sam begin ironing the first piece of clothing; a pair of Dean’s black jeans.

“This Gordon guy… is he dangerous?” Gabriel asked. He raised his hand and glanced at Dean. “You want me to do something about him? Break a leg? Stick him in the path of a moving bus?”

Dean smirked at the idea before shaking his head. “Nah. He isn’t dangerous to Sam or me. Maybe you guys should keep out of his way though.”

“You sure? I can incapacitate him if you need me to,” hummed Gabriel but Dean shook his head again.

“Please don’t kill one of our colleagues,” said Sam. “That would be difficult to explain to the boss.”

Gabriel grinned. “Alright. I wouldn’t like to get you fired, Samsquatch.”

Sam moved onto the next item and Gabriel watched him fondly for a moment before returning his attention to Raphael.

“That still leaves me with the problem of Gordon,” sighed Dean. “A whole eight hours with the guy. I’m not sure I can put up with him for that long.”

“What’s the case?” Asked Sam.

“Double homicide. A husband and wife were killed in the early hours of the morning. First guess was their siren got hold of a kitchen knife and stabbed them both to death, but Vic isn’t so convinced. He wants me to take a look.”

Victor had quickly come to appreciate Sam and Dean’s new approach to cases and that was most likely due to the obvious statistical reduction in crime since the Winchesters had learned how to separate the convenient suspects from the actual murderers, thieves and other criminals. Whilst initially, Victor had resented Gabriel and Castiel accompanying his officers on cases, nowadays he appeared pleased to see them (even if they weren’t present all that often anymore). There were rumours he was going to promote the Winchesters to detectives and have them train some of the other officers on how to solve cases fairly and correctly.

Sam scrunched his nose up. “So why is Walker accompanying you?”

Dean grimaced. “Because he was the first officer on the job this morning and he was the one who suspected it was the siren. When Vic said he wanted to send me in for confirmation, Gordon asked to be present.”

Sam winced. “He wants to see why Vic has more faith in your reports than his.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah. So basically, I’m going to have to deal with a stroppy Gordon who’s going to question every judgement I make.”

“Good luck, man,” said Sam sympathetically. “Try not to shoot him in public.”

Dean snorted humourlessly and checked his watch. “My shift starts in half an hour. I’d better get going,” he sighed.

“Would you care for some company?” Asked Castiel suddenly and Dean turned to the seraph in surprise.

“You should rest up. You’re working tomorrow.”

“I’m not working today,” Castiel countered. “Besides, it’s been a while since I worked a case with either of you.”

Dean frowned as Sam smirked knowingly.

“It’s a good offer, Dean. He might keep you sane,” chuckled Sam and Dean contemplated the idea for a moment before shaking his head.

“Better not. I don’t trust Gordon enough to let him near you.”

“He won’t do anything to me in public,” reasoned Castiel. “Especially when he knows I belong to you and your brother.”

The archangels were biting back grins as Dean mulled the thought over. Technically, Castiel only belonged to Sam.

“Alright, fine. Try to stay out of his way though. I wouldn’t like him to get any ideas.”

Castiel brightened, wings perking up in excitement and Dean quirked a smile before gesturing towards the door, oblivious to the amused smirks of his brother and the archangels.

 

* * *

 

Dean didn’t like the way Gordon kept eying Castiel as though he was a parasite to be exterminated. The moment Gordon had laid eyes on Castiel, it was clear the other officer wanted him gone. It was bad enough Dean had been called onto the crime scene to validate Gordon’s claims about the siren, but having Castiel helping must have been a low blow to the man’s pride.

Dean made sure to place himself between Gordon and Castiel at all times.

They were in an average-sized house with fairly modern décor and amenities. There was nothing special about the house and the neighbourhood wasn’t exactly rife with crime. It was just a normal house in a normal town and the people who lived there were pretty normal too.

Dean crouched beside the body, noting how there was only one wound. Someone had stabbed the woman in the chest and twisted and the woman had died pretty quickly. Dean’s gaze flicked to the woman’s nails. Clean. So, no struggle then. There were no bruises that suggested the woman had been difficult to restrain, nothing to suggest she had fought back.

Maybe she had been too shocked to fight back. Or maybe she didn't expect her attacker to actually attack. If that was the case, then it was to be assumed that she knew her attacker quite well; well enough that she hadn’t considered them to be a threat. The wound being located on her chest also meant that she had watched her attacker murder her. Someone she trusted, then.

Dean noticed the dress the woman was wearing; a stunning red with a lace finish. A little too short to be formal. Dean caught sight of a black garter peeking from under where the bottom of the dress had slipped upwards when she had fallen. The eye-catching make up was also a hint as to who she’d been trying to impress. A romantic interest or partner; someone she had an intimate connection with.

“Besides the siren, was there anyone else in the house? A boyfriend, maybe?” Asked Dean. 

Gordon huffed irritably. “Friend said she was going on a date tonight. The boyfriend was the one who called the cops to report the body. Said she didn’t answer his knocking but he realised the door was open and he went upstairs to check on her. Found her like this.” Gordon gestured to the body. “It’s clearly the siren’s doing.”

Dean frowned. “But what’s the motive?”

Gordon looked annoyed by the question. “It’s a monster,” he bit out, glancing briefly at Castiel. “What motive does it need?”

Dean ignored the other officer. “You sure the boyfriend wasn’t in the house before she died?”

Gordon shrugged, a scowl on his face. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there, was I?” He shook his head. “Why are you dragging this out? Let’s just report back to the station, tell them the siren did it and we’ll kill the thing when it comes out of hiding.”

Dean’s mouth drew into a thin line as he once again ignored the other man. He glanced at Castiel and silently gestured him over, which only seemed to irk Gordon more.

“What do you think, Cas? She obviously knew her attacker, right? Trusted them, even. I doubt the siren would have killed her if she trusted it. If she had a good relationship with her monster, why would it murder her? It’s got to be someone else. The boyfriend, maybe?”

Castiel’s brows furrowed as his gaze roamed over the woman, making all the same observations as Dean had.

“Unless,” he began carefully, slowly, as though he was testing the words as he said them, “it was both.”

Dean frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Castiel tilted his head. “You’re quite right; this woman knew her attacker well, intimately even. What if the siren took the form of the boyfriend? Maybe they didn’t share a good relationship and the siren knew if it took the form of her lover, it would be more likely to succeed in its attack.”

Dean pursed his lips. That would mean Gordon was right.

“Basically, we’re gonna have to find out what this woman’s relationship with her siren was,” sighed Dean as he glanced at the angel.

Castiel nodded and Dean rose to his feet, turning to face Gordon. 

“We need to find out how this woman treated her siren. Look for any clues that may suggest they didn’t share a good relationship.”

Gordon frowned. “Such as?”

“Chains, high voltage collars, weapons used to hurt sirens. Anything like that,” shrugged Dean.

“…So… anything a normal human has to properly train their monster?” Scowled Gordon.

Dean grit his teeth as he made his way towards the door. “No. Anything twisted humans use to abuse the creatures in their care.” He placed a hand on Castiel’s lower back and quickly led him out of the room. He didn’t want the angel anywhere near Gordon. He promised himself he would keep Castiel safe.

“You search upstairs. We’ll go downstairs,” Dean called through a clenched jaw. He heard Gordon mumble irritatedly to himself.

Once they reached the hall, Castiel glanced at Dean in amusement.

“I am quite capable of handling myself,” he hummed, fingering his deactivated collar. “You don’t have to keep protecting me.” His tone was fond.

Dean shrugged uncomfortably. “I know, Cas. I just… I don’t like him being around you. I don’t trust him.”

Castiel smiled affectionately, as if he was watching a particularly adorable puppy. Dean pretended not to notice, despite his heart fluttering at the sight and another part of him basking in the attention.

They came to a halt in the hallway and glanced around the five doors leading off from it. Dean turned to Castiel with an amused smirk.

“Let’s split up and look for clues,” he said, as if he was referencing something that was supposed to be funny. Castiel didn’t understand the joke so he nodded and made his way towards the fifth door, missing the way Dean sagged a little in disappointment. The hunter quickly brushed it off though and headed into the first room.

The first room happened to be the living room, which joined onto the dining room. Dean wandered around the room, taking in the generic wooden furniture and bland leather couch before coming across what appeared to be a dog crate. It was fairly large; big enough for a human to crouch in and since there were no signs of dog hairs anywhere else in the house, Dean could guess what inhabited the cage. He sighed and shook his head. That explained the siren’s relationship with its owner then.

He padded into the dining room in search of more clues and was just about to rummage through the bookcase when he heard the door into the living room open. He whirled around to find no one there, so he frowned and trotted over to the door, wondering if Castiel was looking for him and hadn’t spotted him in the dining room.

As he opened the door, something brushed against his elbow and he turned quickly, only to take a step backwards at the sight of Castiel squinting at him.

Dean relaxed and moved away from the door with an amused huff. “We need to get you a bell.”

Castiel said nothing, merely tilting his head at Dean curiously. Dean jerked a thumb towards the cage.

“Looks like our victim made her siren sleep in a cage. I’m willing to bet that’s not the only thing she did to it. You find anything else? I was just about to look in the dining room.”

Castiel gazed at Dean a little longer before shaking his head slowly. Dean frowned slightly at the seraph’s silence but shrugged and wandered into the dining room. “You can help me look if you like.” He quite enjoyed Castiel’s company anyway.

The seraph hesitated for a moment before trailing him into the other room. He watched Dean’s gaze flick over the bookcase before he moved to a tall glass display case that was filled with ornaments and other delicate trinkets. He looked over it for a few moments before his gaze returned to Dean.

Feeling as though he was being watched, Dean turned to Castiel with a crooked smile. “What?”

Castiel stared back blankly and Dean’s smile dimmed slightly.

“…Are you okay, man?”

Once again, Castiel remained silent, regarding him carefully.

Dean’s gaze tracked over his body for a moment, admiring broad shoulders and a strong jaw before he frowned as he realised something was missing.

“Dude… where’s your collar?”

Castiel blinked, brushing the pads of his fingers against what Dean had just noticed was a very burnt and bruised neck.

“Shit! Did it malfunction?” Panicked Dean, racing towards Castiel to inspect the wounds. Tender fingers grazed over the abused flesh and Castiel grimaced, making Dean recoil. The hunter ran a hand through his hair as Castiel stared at him in surprise.

“I’m so sorry, Cas. I thought the stupid thing was deactivated. If I’d thought it even had a chance of reactivating itself, I never would’ve- _mmf!”_

Dean’s eyes blew wide as Castiel grabbed his uniform and tugged him forwards, crushing their lips together in a rough kiss.

Dean’s pulse suddenly tripled and it felt as though his heart had leapt into his throat as the angel licked inside his mouth. He didn’t know where to put his hands, couldn’t remember how to breathe and all he could think was for someone who was straight, he was really enjoying having another dude’s tongue down his throat.

Then again, Castiel wasn’t just _‘another dude’_ and it wasn’t the first time he’d wondered what the seraph’s lips tasted like (even if he’d tried to shove the question down all those other times).

But still… Castiel was _kissing_ him. _What?_

He found his eyes slipping shut without telling them too and he melted into the kiss, his hands sliding around the seraph’s waist without his consent. He kissed back, one of Castiel’s hands fisting his hair as they pressed chest-to-chest. Dean should have pulled away; rebuffed Castiel and told him it wasn’t the time nor the place to sort this out between them, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed closer and stroked his tongue over the angel’s, tasting him hungrily. He didn’t even question where Castiel’s usual coffee and forest-y scent had gone; too busy was he sucking on the angel’s face.

_“DEAN!”_

Dean recoiled as though burned. That had been Castiel’s voice. So how…?

The glint of the knife caught his eye before it was too late and he grabbed Castiel’s wrist before the weapon made contact with his abdomen. Castiel snarled and Dean’s mind was racing too fast for his thoughts to make sense. The angel kicked out at his legs, making him stagger and Dean managed to twist the seraph’s wrist before he got a chance to stab him with what Dean could now see was a large kitchen knife.

They tussled for a moment before Dean tripped, sending them both sprawling to the floor and it was only when Dean was on the floor, did he cock his head backwards slightly to find the real Castiel staring at them both in horror from the doorway, collar still in place.

Dean rolled to one side before the Castiel impostor could impale his face. He kicked out viciously, knocking the other man away from him.

He scrambled to his feet as the fake Castiel did and they sized each other up for a few seconds. All evidence pointed to the creature in front of Dean being the siren and Dean tried to steady his breathing as he held his hands up placatingly.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he said slowly and the siren bared his teeth and clutched the knife a little tighter.

“That’s what all you filthy apes say,” he spat in Castiel's gravelly voice and Dean’s eyes were once again drawn to his marred neck.

“We want to help,” Dean insisted. “If we could just ask you a few questions- ”

“So you can take me to be euthanised? Slaughtered like an animal? I’d rather kill you now and escape,” the siren hissed.

“Now wait a minute,” began Dean but the siren wouldn’t hear it. Still wearing Castiel’s face, he surged forwards and lunged for Dean’s stomach. The hunter barely managed to leap out of the way before the siren was on him again, throwing his body weight at him until they both tumbled to the floor. Dean grabbed the creature’s wrists.

“We just want to know what happened!” Grunted Dean as he wrestled with the siren.

“Liar!” Snarled the siren, snatching his hand from Dean’s grip before slicing his knife through the hunter’s arm.

Dean hissed at the sharp sting. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Shut up and die, ape!” Snapped the siren, slashing at Dean’s arm again when he threw it over his face to protect himself.

He yelped when the blade cut deep, tearing muscle, but suddenly the siren cried out in agony and Dean risked a peek up at the creature to find it morphing back into his natural form; a blonde, skinny man barely out of his teens.

It slumped to the floor gracelessly, eyes wide and shocked and chest still as blood began to trickle from his mouth.

Dean stared at the lifeless creature for a moment before whipping his head up to face his saviour.

Castiel towered above him, blade clutched in his hand, its tip painted with red. His wings were raised in righteous fury as he glared at the prone figure in disgust and his halo glowed a dim silver above his head, eyes an ethereal blue. He looked every bit a powerful warrior and Dean’s mouth grew dry at the sight, body heating.

The blue gaze quickly dimmed, halo fading away as wings drooped and Castiel’s expression softened into one of concern as he dropped his blade and kneeled beside Dean. The seraph took his arm gently and pulsed his grace into it, healing the deep wounds there. 

Dean gulped, unable to speak. Sirens took the form of their victim’s most intimate desires, which could range from anything from someone’s true love to the person they secretly lusted after, or even a high school sweetheart they’d never completely forgotten.

This siren had taken the form of Castiel. And then it had kissed Dean.

And Castiel had witnessed it all.

He dared to glance at Castiel and found the seraph focusing intently on his arm, a small frown creasing his brows as he ensured Dean healed properly. Dean swallowed again at how close the angel was; how his concerned expression made Dean want to pull him close and experience a kiss with the actual angel he’d grown so fond of.

There was no point in denying his attraction to Castiel now. Might as well accept it and hope that maybe he’d find some happiness out of it.

Still, this was neither the time nor the place and he was harshly reminded of that when Gordon hissed at him from the other side of the room.

“What happened? Why did that siren take the form of your little pet?”

Dean grimaced. He hadn’t realised Gordon had seen the whole fight either. Hopefully he hadn’t witnessed the kiss.

When Dean ignored him, Gordon’s expression morphed into an ugly scowl as he marched closer.

“Well?” He demanded. “You gonna explain why that thing turned into your feathered freak?”

Dean clenched his fists. “The word you’re looking for is ‘angel’,” he snapped. “And I don’t know,” he muttered because he was barely coming to terms with his attraction to Castiel himself; he didn’t feel the need to explain himself to Gordon.

Castiel’s hurt gaze didn’t slip his notice though and he felt like the biggest jerk in the universe.

Gordon curled his lip in disgust.

“Never took you for a fairy, Dean. And for a mutation like that, too?” He scoffed.

Dean bristled as Castiel’s wings raised in anger.

“I’m calling the station to tell them we caught the killer,” Dean growled through gritted teeth, changing the subject because if he didn’t, he was afraid he’d punch a hole through Gordon’s face and he didn’t want to deal with the paperwork that came with.

Gordon snorted as Dean stood and left the room. He couldn’t stand to be in the man’s presence any longer and he hoped getting out of the house would calm him down.

“Call the Dead Man to do something about that siren,” Dean spat. Gordon huffed in distaste but said nothing more as Dean stalked out of the room.

Now alone with Gordon, Castiel turned away from the infuriating man to gaze at the siren. The boy must have been barely twenty and Castiel hadn’t wanted to kill him, but it was clear he had no intention of leaving Dean alive, despite Dean’s pleading. Castiel had felt so much hatred and anger radiating from the siren and although he despised violence, he knew leaving the siren alive would have been fatal to anyone he stumbled across. He couldn’t let innocent people suffer just because this boy was so rage-filled, human or not.

He couldn't let Dean suffer.

He shook his head sadly and turned to reach for his discarded blade, only to frown when it was absent. He glanced over the floor briefly but froze when he noticed how close Gordon suddenly was. He gazed up at the man and was met with a cold glare and a disgusted sneer.

In his hand lay Castiel’s blade.

Castiel lifted his wings in alarm and he took a small step backwards and Gordon’s lips quirked upwards into a smirk.

“So… You’re Dean’s wet dream, huh?” He drawled and Castiel didn’t know how to reply to that so he didn’t, too busy focusing on the blade Gordon was pointing at him.

“You two already going at it?” Gordon asked, tone laced with danger. Castiel shook his head, hands raising slightly to either placate or protect himself.

Gordon snorted. “Sure,” he said as he took a step forward. “It isn’t natural, y’know. For humans to sleep with monsters. You freaks shouldn’t even be allowed to live. This is our planet, not your hunting ground.”

Castiel frowned and opened his mouth to protest but Gordon clutched the weapon a little tighter and Castiel’s attention was immediately drawn to it. If it was any other knife, he would have knocked Gordon to the floor by now, but as it was, he didn’t feel like getting killed by his own blade today.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your collar doesn’t work,” said Gordon as he approached the angel and Castiel’s eyes widened for a moment before he tilted his chin defiantly.

“That thing should have knocked you out the second you stabbed that siren. It didn’t even twitch,” muttered Gordon. “Judging by how Dean didn’t seem to care and how he owns a deactivator, I’m guessing he deactivated it. Which he knows is illegal.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. If Gordon dared to threaten Dean…

Suddenly, Gordon jabbed the blade at Castiel and he scuttled backwards. 

“I think he’s getting too close to you,” Gordon murmured. “Sleeping with you is bad enough, but affection for you too? Something needs to be done.” He smiled and it was too wide with far too many teeth. “Fortunately, I’m willing to do him a favour.”

He prowled towards Castiel until the seraph had his back pressed against the wall. Gordon toyed with the sword as he came to stand directly in front of Castiel. He brushed the tip of the blade over Castiel’s throat with a sadistic smirk.

“Don’t worry, he’ll get over you. The second a perky set of breasts and a pretty ass strolls his way, you’ll be nothing but a distant memory.”

Castiel glared at the officer, wincing slightly when the blade nicked his skin.

“Got to get Dean on the straight and narrow again, right?” Drawled Gordon. “Can’t have his feelings biased in a job like this. His job is to serve and protect humans, not filthy abominations.”

Castiel pursed his lips. “His job is to serve and protect _everyone,_ ” he growled. "As yours is."

Gordon narrowed his eyes. “Too bad you won’t be here to remind him of that.” He drew the blade back, ready to strike but Castiel was quicker and he crashed a wing into the side of the human’s head.

Gordon staggered to his left and Castiel beat him again with a wing before smashing a fist into his stomach. As the human doubled over with a groan, Castiel twisted Gordon’s wrist until the sword fell out of his grip, but before he could pick it up, Gordon threw an arm around his neck and yanked him backwards.

He kneed Castiel between the legs from behind and the seraph grunted in pain before Gordon gripped his wing and pulled, making the tiny bones click.

Castiel elbowed the hunter’s gut and stamped on his foot and when Gordon’s grasp loosened, he whirled to face the human and slammed his knuckles into his face. Gordon stumbled but quickly recovered before Castiel had a chance to pick up his swprd. The hunter leapt at the seraph, slamming his face into the wall and Castiel blasted his grace at the man, sending him flying into the opposite wall exactly the same time as Gordon locked his collar together, reactivating it.

It took a moment to activate and Castiel paled, hurrying to quell his furious emotions, but it was too late and the collar pulsed an angry wave of electricity into his neck, making him gag.

He leaned against the wall, pulling at the collar instinctively and more energy surged through his body as the collar tried to dissuade him from removing it.

Castiel’s eyes blew wide as sweat beaded over his forehead. He couldn’t go back to this. Not after so long being without the agonising shockwaves.

He gasped when he realised Gordon had stumbled to his feet and was reaching for the discarded sword.

Without thinking, he used a burst of grace to fling the sword away from the hunter and was rewarded with a painful surge of electricity, which made him choke and stagger.

Gordon chuckled and wandered over to the sword, picking it up and heading towards Castiel.

“Any last words, freak?” Hummed Gordon as he shoved the gasping Castiel against the wall, readying the blade.

The collar was a continuous pump of electricity now due to Castiel’s combination of fear and fury and hatred. Had the collar always been this painful or had he just forgotten what the pain felt like after going so many months without it? It was hard to think clearly, to focus but he screamed the first thing that came to his mind.

_**“DEAN!”** _

Gordon’s face twisted angrily. “Goodnight, angel,” he sneered before aiming for Castiel’s heart.

There was the crack of a gunshot and Gordon crumpled to the ground with a cry of agony. He dropped the blade in favour of clutching his ankle and he hissed when his sock grew darker with fresh blood.

Dean sprinted over, gun still clenched in his palm and he gathered Castiel into his arms before viciously ramming the butt of his pistol into the side of Gordon’s head. Gordon yelped, clutching the side of his head before glowering up at Dean.

“Touch him again and the next hole will be between your eyes,” snarled Dean as he tugged the wild-eyed Castiel into his side. “Don’t think I won’t be telling Henriksen about this.”

Gordon bared his teeth at Dean but stayed slumped on the floor. “Don’t forget to tell him the part where you assaulted another officer,” he spat.

“I’m gonna take great joy in it,” hissed Dean threateningly before marching Castiel into the backseat of the Impala and locking the doors. He pulled the angel into his side and stroked his wings soothingly, hoping to calm him and ease the collar’s abuse.

Sweat slicked Castiel’s wings and face and his pupils were blown wide, expression contorted into one of torment and agony. He looked like a frightened animal in intense pain and Dean swallowed drily as he pulled the angel into his lap and held his trembling body close. He cursed himself for leaving his deactivator at home. He’d assumed he wouldn’t need it.

Dean shuddered at the quiet, repetitive buzz of the collar and he guided Castiel’s face into his neck, petting his hair and wings as he attempted to soothe the angel.

“Sshhh, it’s okay, Cas. You’re safe. He’s gone. Don’t think about him. Focus on where you are. Focus on my voice,” he whispered, guilt eating at his heart. He should have stayed with the angel. He shouldn’t have left him with Gordon when he knew how the other hunter felt about monsters.

Eventually, the buzzing began to decrease in frequency and Castiel’s breathing grew steadier as he pressed his nose into Dean’s neck, clutching his uniform gently.

“Keep talking,” murmured Castiel shakily and Dean breathed a soft sigh of relief at hearing the seraph’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled beside Castiel’s ear. “I should have stayed with you. I shouldn’t have let him near you.”

There was a sharp buzz, startling Dean and Castiel shook his head slightly. “Talk about something else,” he said through gritted teeth.

Dean gulped, mind suddenly blank and he blurted the first thing that he could think of.

“I wouldn’t have kissed that siren if I’d known it wasn’t you.”

The buzzing suddenly stopped and Castiel fell very quiet. Dean couldn’t even tell if the seraph was breathing.

When Castiel didn’t offer anything, Dean swallowed around the dry lump in his throat and ploughed on.

“…I kept wondering where your scent was, why you were being so quiet, but when that thing kissed me, I… I wanted…” He trailed off, red colouring his cheeks. He shouldn’t be admitting this.

Castiel clutched his uniform a little tighter. “What did you want?” He breathed.

Dean licked his lips and decided his feelings were already out of the bag anyway, might as well confirm them.

“You, Cas. I want you.” He whispered. “The real you.”

The buzzing had ceased and Castiel’s wings were fluttering rather than trembling. The angel slowly pulled back to look at him and when Dean noticed the tiny, pleased quirk to his lips and the excitement in his ocean gaze, he thought about how his hands were buried in Castiel’s hair and wing and how the seraph was perched in his lap, and his mind went _‘stuff it, I can panic about my sexuality later’._

He cupped the back of Castiel’s head and slotted their lips together.

Castiel’s wings suddenly flung out either side of him, filling the entire backseat as the feathers fluffed up in joy. His halo glowed brightly above his head and his eyes flashed a dazzling blue as he melted into the kiss.

They were both a little bruised and their bodies sore from fighting (and in Castiel’s case, the punishment from his collar) but Dean couldn’t care less because Castiel was licking at his lips enthusiastically and when Dean finally granted him access, the angel pressed closer and eagerly mapped out his mouth, saving the details for later.

Dean fisted a wing and Castiel shivered and brought a hand up to cup the hunter’s jaw. They tasted each other for a few moments before pulling back for air and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the angel’s bright eyes and glowing halo.

“That was an adequate distraction,” said Castiel after a moment, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I may require another later.”

Dean grinned and kissed the angel’s forehead. “That can be arranged,” he murmured as Castiel nestled back into him, nosing at his neck happily. “First though, let’s get this collar off.”

Castiel nodded in agreement and they slid out of the car to move to the front seats, where Castiel immediately wedged himself into Dean’s side. Dean smiled in approval and wrapped an arm around the seraph as the car rolled onto the road.

 

* * *

 

Once they arrived home, Castiel was swamped with questions from his brothers, who took one look at his battered frame and demanded to know what had transpired. Dean trotted upstairs to grab his deactivator, which only prompted more alarm and frantic questions from his brothers.

Honestly, Dean was feeling a little left out. He got beaten up too.

Instead, Sam glanced between Castiel and Dean, gaze narrowing as his brother deactivated Castiel’s collar.

“…You didn’t kill Gordon, did you?” He asked suspiciously and Dean’s expression grew dark as he tossed the collar on the coffee table.

“I should have,” he replied, nodding his head in approval when Gabriel healed Castiel’s wounds. “Guy held Cas’ sword to his throat when I left to call the station about the siren. He also thought it would be fun to reactivate Cas’ collar.”

The archangels stiffened. “How dead is he?” Demanded Gabriel. “Because if it’s anything less than decomposing, I’m gonna go back and finish him off.”

Dean’s lip twitched in amusement. “Unfortunately, I can’t kill my colleague, but he won’t be walking on two legs any time soon.”

“Did you chop one off?” Asked Lucifer a little too gleefully.

“He shattered his ankle with a bullet,” said Castiel solemnly and when Lucifer sagged slightly, the seraph added “There was a lot of blood.”

Lucifer perked up instantly and smiled at Dean in approval.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Did you just leave him there?”

“He’s got a phone,” dismissed Dean. “Anyway, I need to go back to the station and file a report.”

“Hopefully you won’t be suspended, or, y’know, fired,” drawled Sam and this time, Dean turned to frown at his brother.

“The guy nearly killed Cas. I don’t care if I do get fired, I’ll shoot him again if he even looks at Cas wrong.”

Sam’s gaze softened and he nodded. “Right. Go file that report then.”

Dean headed towards the door, but was stopped by Michael.

“One moment please,” he said softly before reaching out to place two fingers against Dean’s forehead.

Dean blinked and suddenly all his aches and pains were gone, his bruises and wounds disappearing with them. He grinned at the angel and patted his shoulder gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

Michael nodded with a small smile and moved away to allow Dean to leave. Dean sneaked a quick glance back to Castiel, who smiled fondly at him and Dean’s expression brightened as he strolled out of the house, feeling like the sun was shining down on him for once.

 

* * *

 

The feelings didn’t last. He returned home long after darkness had blanketed the sky and he felt emotionally and physically drained. Gordon had blabbed about Dean deactivating Castiel’s collar and Dean had had to lie through his teeth to make the Commissioner believe Gordon was lying to get him into more trouble. He’d also had to say the reason he’d been so adamant in defending Castiel from the other hunter was because Castiel was his and his brother’s property and he didn’t want their property damaged, which just made Dean feel extremely dirty. Now, he was on probation and that meant desk work for the next couple of months until Vic decided he could be trusted with field work again, and even that would be observed by his partner, which meant he wouldn’t be working with Sam for a long time now.

At least Gordon had been suspended.

Dean wrinkled his nose. Suspended for six months. He should have been fired and locked up. Victor agreed, but unfortunately the decision was up to the higher ups and they declared his crime wasn’t that significant. If it had been a human Gordon had tried to kill, it would have been significant, Dean thought bitterly.

He trudged into the house and leaned against the door for a moment to steady himself. He frowned when he felt as though he was being watched.

He glanced towards the living area to find a group of angels smirking at him like they knew something he didn’t.

He was surprised they were still awake at one in the morning but a quick check proved that Gabriel and Sam had already hit the hay.

So why were the other archangels (and Jack) grinning at him?

Castiel had his head lowered, ear tips tinged with pink and Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Do we need to have the big brother talk?” Drawled Lucifer.

Dean rolled his eyes, huffing softly as he relaxed. Now he understood.

“I’ll keep him as pure as I can,” Dean snorted, ignoring how his own cheeks were burning in embarrassment. He didn't need to be grilled by the big brothers after only just figuring out he wasn't only attracted to women. And he certainly didn't need more threats after the meeting he'd had with the Commissioner. 

“It’s unwise to lie to your brothers-in-law,” hummed Michael and Dean rolled his eyes again. He could see the family resemblance between the archangels now; they were all annoying little shits.

“Our baby brother deserves the best,” stated Raphael solemnly. “You will treat him right, won’t you, Dean?”

Dean turned to them, standing up straight. “Did Sam get this speech, too?”

The archangels nodded. “And we didn’t like him as much then as we do now,” said Lucifer. “You’re getting off easy.”

Dean snorted in amusement. “Aren’t you supposed to have this talk when the one you’re protecting isn’t in the room?” He gestured to Castiel and Michael shrugged.

“We’re improvising.”

Lucifer smiled sweetly at Dean. “Break his heart and we break your face.”

Castiel glowered at his brother and Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Got it.”

“We’re not expecting you to be perfect, Dean,” said Raphael much more reasonably. “We just ask you at least try to make him happy.”

Dean’s gaze softened. “I can do that.”

Lucifer frowned. “You might not be expecting him to be perfect, but I am.”

Michael elbowed him and Lucifer huffed.

“What’s wrong with that? Cassie’s our little bro. Like you said; he deserves the best.”

“Within reasonable expectations,” muttered Michael.

“I think my expectations are perfectly reasonable,” protested Lucifer, ignoring Michael’s eye roll.

Dean smiled at their bickering. It reminded him of Sam and himself.

“That’s all we wanted to say,” said Raphael softly as his brothers broke off into their own quiet argument. He smiled fondly and shook his head as he heard Michael gently smack his wing against the side of Lucifer’s head.

“I’ll do everything I can to keep him happy,” promised Dean and Raphael smiled.

“That’s all we ask.”

Dean flicked his gaze to Castiel and found the seraph smiling at him affectionately. He gestured towards the stairs and Castiel rose to his feet, wings fluttering happily.

“And where do you think you two are going?” Demanded Lucifer.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “…To bed?”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “Our baby brother doesn’t fool around on the first date.” He crossed his arms and Castiel scowled.

“Lucifer, enough.”

“What Lucifer is trying to say,” Michael interrupted before another argument broke out, “is we were hoping Castiel would stay with us tonight. He has informed us of what transpired with Gordon and we… well, to put it bluntly, we wish to reassure ourselves of his safety. Just for tonight. You both have every right to refuse, but… we were… worried…” Michael trailed off quietly, looking genuinely embarrassed, as if concern over his little brother’s health was something to be ashamed of.

Castiel’s gaze softened and Dean’s lips twitched at how Lucifer was staring defiantly at him, chin tilted upwards despite his gaze being uncertain and maybe a little pleading.

“As long as it’s alright with Cas,” shrugged Dean, easily hiding the twinge of disappointment in his gut and Castiel glanced at him gratefully. The seraph nodded after a moment and made his way towards his brothers, wedging himself between Michael and Raphael.

Dean straightened and nodded in a silent bid of goodnight. He wanted to kiss the seraph but he knew Castiel’s brothers needed Castiel more than he did right then, so he merely strode over to the stairs.

“You too, Winchester,” Lucifer huffed so quietly, Dean almost didn’t hear it.

He turned, frowning in confusion as Lucifer refused to meet his gaze.

“You say something?”

Lucifer kept his gaze lowered for moment, carding his fingers through Jack’s wings to soothe himself before he finally looked at Dean.

“You’re staying with us too,” he stated and Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Uh…”

“You’re family,” Lucifer huffed. “Flock. Just like your brother is. You’re staying with us because you seem to be incapable of avoiding harm and at least if you’re down here, we can keep an eye on you.” He glared at Dean challengingly, daring him to ridicule him.

Dean wasn’t sure what the feelings in his chest were, but he did know that sleeping alone suddenly didn’t sound too appealing. He wondered if he should at least try to protest the touch-feely girly stuff he was known to despise, but his mind wandered back to the Commissioner telling him he was on probation and that the attempted murder of Castiel only warranted the attacker being placed on a six-month suspension, and honestly? A cuddle sounded great right about now. Besides, he was just humouring the angels’ need for tactile comfort. Yeah, that was it.

He shrugged. “Okay.”

Lucifer sagged in relief and Michael’s lips tugged upwards in a tiny smile. Castiel grinned and Raphael’s wings fluttered, pleased. Jack bounced on his toes excitedly.

Dean glanced at the double airbed in the centre of the floor.

“…I don’t think that’s going to be big enough for all of us,” he muttered.

Michael waved his hand at the airbed gracefully and it suddenly tripled in size, cushions, blankets and pillows appearing on the bed in a chaotic mess that reminded Dean of something akin to a nest. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as Jack mewled excitedly and swan-dived, head-first into the admittedly inviting bed.

Lucifer chuckled at his son and gently guided Raphael to the nest, Michael and Castiel quickly following. The angels arranged themselves until they were curled around one another or draped over each other, wings brushing and feathers mingling in a swirl of colours. Dean stared at them for a few moments, uncertain what was expected of him, but Lucifer huffed impatiently.

“Get down here, Winchester,” he growled.

“I’m still in my uniform,” Dean protested and Lucifer narrowed his eyes and clicked his fingers. Dean looked down to find himself in comfortable grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt. He blinked. How efficient.

Dean approached the angels cautiously, watching Michael, Lucifer and Jack for any signs of discomfort or reservations they might have about him being human, but when they merely stared up at him expectantly, he relaxed slightly and wondered where he was supposed to slot himself.

Castiel made the decision for him and he was yanked into the seraph’s arms, a pair of raven wings sliding around him possessively as Castiel tucked Dean’s head under his chin.

Suddenly, a body pressed against his back, arms slipping around his middle and Dean’s cheeks heated at the realisation Michael was wrapped around him, snuggling close with a soft hum of approval.

Jack, Lucifer and Raphael shifted to accommodate the new position and Dean found himself draped in feathers, blankets and a few very toasty angels.

A smile crawled over his face slowly. This felt… nice.

Michael tightened his grip as Castiel began stroking his back idly and Dean couldn’t help but thrust his hands into any feathers he could find.

There was a hum of approval from Castiel and a soft sound of appreciation from Lucifer when Dean flexed his fingers. 

“Is this alright?” Whispered Castiel after a few moments and Dean smiled and kissed his chest. This was more than alright. Angel burritos were definitely at the top of his list of things he wanted to do more often and all he could think about was how warm and content he felt after such an emotional rollercoaster of a day. He felt… safe. Wanted. Is that why angels craved touch? So they could feel like this?

“This is awesome,” assured Dean and Castiel squeezed him joyfully, thrilled that Dean accepted his family. Dean wondered if inviting him into their cuddle pile, or whatever it was, was a big deal to angels.

Michael’s hand splayed over his stomach protectively and Dean thought he should feel awkward about it, but he didn’t. Not even when the archangel nuzzled into his neck lightly as he turned off the lights with a flick of his wrist.

“Flock is important to angels,” Michael whispered into the darkness. “Flock is family. It’s those we trust. Those we’d give our lives for; those we’d do anything to protect. We take care of each other and comfort one another in times of need. We hold each other and support one another through the good and the bad. We're always honest with one another and there are no secrets between us. Flocks are earned through loyalty and love.” He pressed his face into the back of Dean’s neck. “We’re asking you to be part of ours.”

Dean’s eyebrows rocketed skywards in shock.

“I’m human,” he protested softly. He didn’t deserve this. Not after his history.

Lucifer was draped over his legs, Jack on top of the archangel as Raphael burrowed into his side.

“You’re the first owner to show Gabriel kindness. You’re Castiel’s protector and our saviour. You’re loyal and patient and you took us in and helped us despite knowing you were putting yourself at risk. You took care of all of us when we needed it most and you look upon us as equals instead of dirt under your shoes,” Lucifer grumbled. “You’re ours whether you like it or not.”

Dean’s gaze softened and he raked his fingers through Lucifer’s feathers roughly, making the archangel groan softly. The bronze wing leaned into Dean’s touch.

“…I’m honoured,” he said quietly.

“Great,” huffed Lucifer. “Now shut up and go to sleep, human.”

Castiel combed a hand through Dean’s hair and Dean smiled, closing his eyes as he relaxed into the seraph’s chest. He was trapped in a nest of angels and suddenly, nothing outside this bed mattered. This felt like home. This was his happy place after a craptastic day. This was his family.

With a warm smile, Dean finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiel in the bag! ;) Hope you're still enjoying


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings at bottom.

Dean awoke from the most restful sleep he’d ever had. He was surrounded by warmth and he felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring up at the ceiling. A glance down at his chest offered him the sight of Castiel and Michael sleeping on his chest, his arms around them both as Michael cocooned all three of them in his huge silver wings.

Gaze trailing a little further down his own body, Dean spotted Lucifer’s head pillowed on his thighs, Jack tucked under his wing and Raphael with his arms around his older brother’s middle, his body curled around Lucifer’s snugly. There were pillows and blankets strewn around them or over them in no discernible order and Jack even had a cushion clutched tightly in his hands, his nose buried into its soft centre as he slept.

A smile pulled at Dean’s lips as he glanced around the angels and he petted Michael and Castiel’s backs gently, unable to help himself. He felt… happy. Peaceful. He hoped he would have the opportunity to wake up like this more often.

Michael nuzzled into his chest sleepily and Dean held him and Castiel a little more securely, a strong instinct to protect his angels flaring up inside him. He wondered if he should be concerned that he was referring to all the angels as his, but ultimately decided he didn’t care as long as they were safe.

Brown eyes opened slowly as Castiel nestled deeper into Dean’s warmth and the oldest archangel leaned into the hunter’s light stroking of his back as he stretched gracefully and tilted his chin to smile up at Dean. Michael slid his arms around the hunter’s middle, clearly unwilling to move, and blinked lazily.

“Good morning, Dean,” he offered quietly, so as not to wake his brothers and nephew. “Did you sleep well?”

Dean nodded with a small smile of his own. “Like the dead.” 

Seemingly pleased that Dean wasn’t feeling awkward at being used as a pillow for a nest of angels, nor did he look uncomfortable at the intimate position, Michael wriggled up the hunter’s body to press his face into his neck. Dean’s leather and whisky scent was very comforting and Michael had a feeling his subconscious was beginning to associate it with safety and protection.

Dean stiffened a little in surprise but eventually relaxed once he realised the movement was innocent. He carded his fingers through a silver tertiary wing.

“Are all angels this affectionate or is it just you guys?” Hummed Dean softly as Michael began nuzzling at his neck contentedly.

“We’re naturally affectionate towards those in our flock,” Michael murmured, thumb rubbing idle circles over Dean’s stomach. “It’s probably just not very noticeable nowadays because we all get separated and we don’t really get the chance to make flocks anymore. I certainly never thought I’d have my flock again.”

Dean frowned and squeezed Michael lightly. The thought of the archangel giving up and believing he’d be alone forever made Dean’s chest ache. His protective instincts flared again and Dean wondered why they were so strong.

Michael smiled into his neck. “Sleeping together in nests like this are our way of bonding with one another. It’s how we reinforce our loyalty to each other. How we build trust and love amongst our flock members. Sleeping is a vulnerable position and we entrust our flock to protect and look out for us, just as we do for them. The more we bond, the stronger our flock grows and the more content our graces become.” Michael paused for a moment. “How do humans bond?” He asked curiously.

Dean pulled a face. “We… don’t. Compared to a lot of creatures, humans are really reserved. We tend to keep to ourselves and a lot of us are naturally mistrusting of one another. Don’t get me wrong, people hug and stuff, but mostly we like our own personal space and try to keep away from strangers. Heck, Sam and I haven’t slept in the same bed together since he was six and I was ten. Dad said it was weird for two brothers to sleep together after a certain age. Most humans seem to agree.”

Michael frowned. “Whilst we all require some alone time, that sounds lonely. Why would you think touch is wrong? Angels crave contact from friends and family. We enjoy meeting new angels as we never know what they might mean to us in the future.” Michael’s palm splayed over Dean’s stomach. “If I could, I would sleep beside my flock every night. I’ve spent most of my life caged alone in a cell or forced to fight for my own survival and I can honestly say I never want to go another day without being able to touch or hold my brothers. I don’t think my grace could take it. Age really doesn’t matter.”

Dean blinked at the fury boiling low in his gut. He wanted to tear into whoever had isolated Michael for so long. He wanted to make them suffer as the archangel had and he wanted to ensure Michael would never lose his flock again.

He could definitely do that last one.

He tugged Michael tighter to his side, rubbing the space between his wings soothingly and smiled when the archangel made a happy sound, nestling closer.

Once again, he wondered why he felt such a strong urge to protect, but ignored it when Michael began nuzzling into his neck again, hand smoothing slow circles into Dean’s stomach.

After a few moments of basking in the angel’s attention, Dean leaned his head against Michael’s.

“Usually, I’d be squirming to get out of this sort of thing. Sprouting crap about how I don’t do chick flick moments and that men don’t ‘cuddle’. It’s weird. It’s like… I just don’t care anymore. I can enjoy this without feeling the need to ‘protect my reputation’ or whatever.”

Apparently, his tongue had become a lot looser as well. Since when did he admit things like that? Maybe he should be worried.

Michael chuckled quietly. It was a warm sound and Dean wanted to curl up in it. It was Lucifer who spoke and Dean startled slightly at the new voice.

“That would be our fault,” he mumbled after a small yawn. “Sleeping together allows our graces to mingle. We don’t have as much control over them in a deep sleep and they often seek each other out in search of comfort and contentment. Right now, this whole room is blanketed in residual energy from our graces. To a lot of creatures, that energy is a little like serotonin and you’ve been exposed to it all night. You’re feeling overly relaxed and happy because you’re basically punch-drunk on our graces.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. That would explain why he wasn’t concerned about admitting how much he was enjoying this cuddle pile.

“It’ll fade though, right?” He wasn’t sure if turning up to work with a loose tongue and a desire for snuggles would be accepted by his colleagues. He’d definitely be the joke of the station for the rest of the year.

With the hand that wasn’t holding Jack, Lucifer traced swirling patterns over Dean’s thigh.

“Once we get up, the energy will begin to dissipate. After around an hour, the room will be completely cleared. Your mind should clear a lot quicker if you stay out of this room.” Lucifer squeezed his thigh gently. “However, I’m not ready to get up yet, so you’re staying here.”

Dean cracked a grin. It appeared he wasn’t the only one with a loose tongue.

“Lucifer gets rather affectionate in the morning,” whispered Michael with a smirk. “You’re not the only one affected, don’t worry.”

Dean grinned as Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Michael’s innocent gaze. The bronze-winged archangel ignored him in favour of settling back down onto Dean’s thigh and brushing his fingers over the other one.

“It’s funny,” he hummed. “I never thought I’d like any human, but you and your brother appear to have proved me wrong. Honestly, being in this house… watching you both make room for all of us… knowing you genuinely care… it’s like… I feel… safe. Like there’s hope for a happy ending for us all.” He curled his hand around Dean’s thigh. “…You won’t leave us, will you?” He asked quietly. “You’re not going to dump us in a rehoming centre or sell us back to the breeding facility if we do something wrong, will you? I know I’m not the easiest guy to tolerate, but I like it here and I’m trying to learn to trust you, but it’s hard and- ”

“Hey,” interrupted Dean softly. “This is your home and nobody’s going to kick you out. Anyone who wants to take you away will have to get through me first. I’m not about to abandon my flock.”

A warm smile crawled slowly across Lucifer’s face and Michael practically mewled as he tucked his head under Dean’s chin.

“I like this human,” mumbled Raphael sleepily as he snuggled closer to Lucifer. “Can we keep him?”

Dean chuckled as Castiel frowned, eyes still closed, and wriggled into the hunter’s chest.

“He’s my human,” he grumbled, voice even more gravelly than usual with disuse. “Get your own.”

Dean laughed again as Castiel shoved Michael off him so he could tuck his own head under the hunter’s chin. Dean kissed his crown and Castiel settled as Michael pouted. The pout faded when Dean resumed massaging his back.

“You guys are gonna love Sam. He’s a cuddler,” drawled Dean and Lucifer perked his head up as Raphael and Michael’s wings fluttered excitedly.

“Gabriel doesn’t cuddle, he clings,” hummed Raphael. “He’s got a strong grip too. Once he latches on, he’ll only be enticed away from you via chocolate.”

Lucifer snorted as Michael smirked at a memory.

Dean smiled and closed his eyes when Castiel began mouthing kisses against his chest. He should feel uncomfortable being kissed by his new lover whilst surrounded by his brothers, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Besides, the other angels didn’t look the least bit disgusted by them. In fact, they seemed resistant to moving and Dean reasoned they had different social expectations to humans.

“You getting possessive there, Cassie?” Asked Lucifer in amusement as he reached up to toy with a few of Castiel’s feathers.

“I’m marking my territory before any of you get any ideas,” grumped Castiel as he leaned upwards to pepper kisses over Dean’s jaw.

“Don’t forget to pee on him too,” teased Michael, burying a hand in Castiel’s wing.

Castiel batted the wing at his brother’s head before shoving Michael away completely and disturbing Lucifer by wrapping the huge appendage around Dean until he was blanketed by a wall of black feathers.

Michael whined softly as Lucifer huffed.

“Hey, play nice,” chided Dean, tapping Castiel’s wing even though his insides felt like butter and his heart was beating double time. The thought of Castiel being possessive over him did wonderful things to his mind.

Reluctantly, Castiel lifted the wing and allowed Michael to slither underneath and latch onto Dean’s side again. The archangel purred when Castiel curled his wing around them all protectively and Lucifer settled onto Dean’s thigh again, petting his son’s hair tenderly.

Dean kissed his lover’s head, making Castiel smile.

“What do you guys think of going out tonight? We can go out for dinner or something. Gabe and I are off and I’m pretty sure Sammy gets off at six. Cas, you finish at five, right?” At the seraph’s lazy nod, Dean smiled. “What do you say we grab something to eat and catch a movie? Make a night out of it?”

Lucifer smirked and fluttered his eyelashes ridiculously. “Why, Dean… are you asking us out on a date?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah. Put your prettiest dress on.”

“Don’t encourage him,” huffed Raphael as Lucifer blinked slowly, as though he was considering the idea.

“That sounds wonderful, Dean,” hummed Michael as he closed his eyes and pressed his face into Dean’s neck once more. He slung an arm around Castiel’s back and the seraph’s lips tugged upwards.

“What sounds wonderful?” Yawned Jack, rubbing his eyes tiredly and Lucifer’s gaze softened as he instinctively began reordering the boy’s feathers.

“Dean’s taking us for a meal and then he’s asked if we would like to go to the movies tonight.”

Jack’s eyes brightened and he glanced up at Dean, thrilled. “Yeah!”

“Awesome,” grinned Dean. “What do you wanna watch, kiddo?”

Jack’s wings trembled in excitement. “Something with superheroes and loads of action, where the good guys save the day! Or- or- or something really funny, or- or something with aliens and- and spaceships! Oh! Or something with animals in it!”

When the adults smiled or laughed softly at his enthusiasm, he grinned and snuggled into his father and it struck Dean that despite the archangels acting far calmer than Jack, none of them had ever been taken to a restaurant either, much less visited a cinema. 

The thought made his heart hurt.

The angels caught the fall in his expression and they suddenly looked concerned.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” Michael asked worriedly and Dean felt something… poke at his insides. No, it wasn’t his insides, it was something else. His mind, maybe? No, not that either. There was another prod and this one felt different… tangier, if that made sense, which it didn’t. There was a third prod, this one different again… smoky where the first prod was smooth and fluid. It was only when Castiel frowned and Dean felt a fourth poke, one that was rich and earthy and for some reason reminded Dean of black coffee, did he realise what was happening.

The angels were reaching out their graces to him, prodding at his soul curiously to see if they could help with whatever was bothering him.

With a determined frown, Dean… brushed against their graces and was rewarded with a burst of warmth and offer of comfort from all of them. Raising his eyebrows in delighted surprise, he reached out for the little wisps of energy again and sort of… held them. He basked in the stream of affection and soothing and finally glanced up at the angels with a fond smile.

To find them staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths.

Dean canted his head slightly to one side. “…What?”

Since he couldn’t stare, Raphael frowned, bewildered. “You… Humans don’t usually… How did you…” He licked his lips and cleared his throat, trying again.

“I wasn’t aware humans could manipulate their souls. I didn’t think they were even aware of them.”

Dean grinned. “In my line of work, you quickly learn how valuable the soul is. Gotta keep it protected from rogue Shtrigas and hungry Crocottas. I don’t have a clue how it works, but I’ve picked up a few neat tricks on the job.”

The angels blinked in shock and Dean laughed.

“See? We’re not entirely useless.”

He startled when four graces surged forwards and began exploring his soul, poking and weaving and brushing against it curiously. Dean closed his eyes, muscles loose and mind completely at ease as he flopped back against the mattress. He’d never felt this relaxed in his entire life. It probably should have felt like an invasion of privacy but honestly, it was one of the most pleasurable feelings he’d ever experienced. 

“You guys should be therapists,” slurred Dean. It should’ve been impossible to feel this content. It was like every problem he’d ever had suddenly didn’t exist.

The prodding eased and the graces began to… nestle against his soul; still weaving slowly in and out of it, but pausing every so often to cradle it protectively or curl up in it affectionately.

“How we were treated in the past isn’t your fault, Dean,” murmured Michael after a few minutes and Dean realised they’d been dissecting his thoughts and emotions, trying to work out what had caused his earlier drop in mood.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Dean mumbled, holding Michael closer because right now, he just wanted all the angels as close as possible, where he knew they were safe and free to do as they wished.

Lucifer and Raphael suddenly shifted to his sides, laying their heads on his stomach as Castiel and Michael shuffled over to accommodate them. Jack sat cross-legged at the bottom of the mattress and watched them in confusion.

“We’re here,” murmured Castiel, pressing his lips against Dean’s jaw. “We’re safe, with you.”

Dean’s cheeks flushed pink as he realised they were still reading his soul.

He contemplated getting up because he wasn’t sure if he could handle them knowing his innermost thoughts and feelings; that was far too emotional for even his drugged-up brain, but Castiel quickly locked his arms around him.

“Relax, Dean. No one’s going to ridicule you here. Enjoy this for a few minutes. You’re allowed to have emotions.”

Dean licked his lips and did as asked, allowing himself to feel the angels’ graces. He closed his eyes once more and let himself bask in their emotions; affection, amusement, contentment and so many others he couldn’t even put names too. It began to bleed into his own soul and a smile wormed over his face. He hoped he got to experience this again one day.

Michael chuckled and nosed at his shoulder. “You can do this every morning if you so wish.”

There was a burst of enthusiasm from Dean’s soul and the angels grinned and held him close.

“I’m never gonna look at whipped cream the same way again,” laughed Sam as he trotted down the stairs, Gabriel trailing closely behind with a wicked smirk.

“Guys, we’re out of- ” Sam stopped in his tracks once he spotted the cuddle pile in the middle of the floor. Gabriel’s eyebrows rocketed skywards.

“…You guys didn’t think to invite me?” He sounded genuinely indignant.

“When we saw you hunting for the whipped cream last night, we decided against it,” drawled Lucifer drily and Gabriel paused, casting his gaze upwards in thought for a moment before nodding in understanding.

“Ah. Fair enough.” He ambled into the kitchen. “I was thinking pancakes for breakfast. Anyone object?”

“Can I help?” Jack called out eagerly and Gabriel grinned.

“Sure thing, kiddo. Help me sift some flour.”

Jack scrambled to his feet and darted into the kitchen, leaving Dean to stare at Sam like a deer caught in headlights.

After a moment Sam shrugged and followed his lover.

“What time did you come in last night?” Asked Sam curiously, voice carrying into the living room from the kitchen and Dean frowned in surprise. When he didn’t respond, Sam poked his head through the doorway.

“What happened yesterday? Did everything go okay?”

Dean blinked. “Uh… I had to speak to the Commissioner. Gordon’s been suspended and I’m on probation for a couple of months.”

Sam scrunched his nose up in sympathy. “That sucks, man.” He ducked back into the kitchen and returned a few moments later with a bowl of eggs and milk which he was whisking rapidly. “How long has he been suspended for?”

Dean shook his head. “Not long enough,” he growled. “Guy should have been fired.”

Sam nodded in agreement before glancing down at his bowl to ensure he wasn’t making a mess. After a few minutes of silence, Dean cleared his throat.

“So… you’re not going to say anything?”

Sam’s brows pinched together and he tilted his head at his brother. “About what?”

Dean glanced pointedly at the angels draped over him and Sam cocked an amused eyebrow.

“What would you like me to say?”

Dean stared. “This doesn’t freak you out?”

“…Why would it freak me out?”

Dean huffed, flustered. “Because I don’t usually do this sort of thing? Because it looks weird by human standards? Because I’m sitting in a nest, cuddling angels?”

Sam’s lips quirked upwards. “Honestly? I’m kind of jealous. That looks cosy.”

Dean gaped as Castiel and Michael smirked. Raphael fluttered his wings and Lucifer blinked slowly at Sam in approval.

“You could always join us,” Lucifer hummed.

“Maybe later,” Sam said as Gabriel dragged him into the kitchen again to steal his bowl. Sam watched the archangel show Jack how to beat the pancake mixture before grabbing a few plates from the cupboards and setting them out on the counter. Then he shuffled back into the living room.

“Air feels weird in here,” he noted. “Kinda… charged.”

“Angel grace,” grunted Castiel from Dean’s chest and Sam nodded as though this was a perfectly understandable answer. Then he tilted his head.

“Cas, don’t you have to go to work today?”

The seraph nodded, still nestled into Dean’s side. Sam checked his watch.

“You know it’s eight-forty-five, right?”

The seraph frowned and glanced at the clock on the wall. Then his eyes widened comically and he scrambled out of the nest and waved a hand at himself, changing into his day clothes.

Sam chuckled when the seraph ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Dean with a hint of panic. The older hunter began to sit up but Sam quickly intervened.

“It’s okay, Cas. I’ll take you.”

The seraph glanced at him gratefully and, fully dressed, Sam grabbed the keys to his Prius and led the angel out of the house. 

Dean flopped back down and smirked when the remaining angels cuddled into him again, Lucifer quickly taking Castiel’s place as he rested his head on Dean’s chest.

Dean wrapped his arms around Michael and Lucifer and let the smell of sweet pancakes wash over him.

He could get used to waking up like this.

 

* * *

 

They had two wait staff serving them; one a young, female witch and the other a male, middle-aged human.

They were at a steakhouse. Dean had been craving meat and both Winchesters had agreed they weren’t going to half-ass the archangels’ and Jack’s first dining experience in town. Whilst it wasn’t the most luxurious of steakhouses (nor the most expensive) the food quality was excellent and the décor simple yet effective. It wasn’t the type of place where people raised their voices and there were never queues so long, people were waiting for entrance out on the street.

The witch had been curious upon their arrival. It was obvious she hadn’t been expecting such a large monster to human ratio in their party and when she realised Sam and Dean treated their monsters like family, she immediately brightened and took a liking to their table, being extra attentive and friendly, which the Winchesters were planning on tipping her for.

The human waiter was less than tolerant of the monster portion of their table and he made it clear they weren’t welcome.

Sam was itching to punch him.

After putting up with sneers and muttered insults from the waiter all evening, Gabriel wasn’t all that surprised when the waiter practically threw his main meal in front of him, making sure to splash a long stripe of sauce onto his shirt. He stared at it, dismayed. It was a nice shirt too; charcoal with black opal buttons. Not wanting to cause a scene, he snapped his fingers and cleaned the shirt, refusing to look at the waiter. The human seemed disappointed his collar hadn’t reacted.

“Worthless trickster,” the waiter muttered under his breath and Sam looked ready to throw knives.

They ignored the incident and continued their conversation, snickering and laughing at one another’s jokes and teasing, and smiling or nodding solemnly in all the right places.

Some of the other servers watched on curiously, both monsters and humans. It was rare to see what they thought was a broad collection of demi-gods, angels, witches, fairies and shape-shifters all getting along and chatting amicably with their human owners. It was even rarer to see them all smiling and seemingly enjoying themselves.

The sight appeared to lift the spirits of the other staff members and even some of the other patrons, but the one male, human server was insistent on trying to ruin the mood. To Gabriel’s chagrin, he seemed to hate him the most.

Sam finally had enough when the server ‘accidentally’ smacked the back of Gabriel’s head with the serving tray.

The archangel flinched, ducking low to protect himself and Sam barely bit back a growl. He tugged Gabriel into his side, in full view of the waiter, and made a show of checking over Gabriel’s scalp before glaring at the smirking waiter.

“You’re a rather impotent server,” he said, loud enough for the surrounding patrons to overhear. “Maybe you should rethink your choice in career.”

Irritation flared behind the man’s eyes. “I’ve never had any complaints before,” he said pleasantly.

“Well, I’ll rectify that,” replied Sam, just as politely. “I think you require extra training to reduce your clumsiness.”

“I’ve served in five-star restaurants, sir. I hardly think I have any clumsiness issues.” The man’s gaze was icy.

“Then maybe it’s your attitude that’s the problem,” said Sam, acid in his tone. He snaked an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders pointedly.

The man tensed and by now, half of the restaurant was staring at them, waiting for the situation to escalate.

The witch approached their table cautiously. “James, go see to table twelve. I can handle this.”

James bristled and snapped his gaze to the witch. “Shut up, Lauren.”

Her eyes widened and she immediately bowed her head, backing off. There were disapproving murmurs from some of the other customers and the surrounding staff glared at James angrily.

James turned to Sam with a forced smile. “Is that all, sir?”

Narrowing his eyes, Sam decided the only way to teach the guy a lesson was to shock him.

He gently tilted Gabriel’s chin up and captured the archangel’s lips in a sweet kiss. A few seconds later, he pulled away to glower at the stunned waiter.

“Treat my boyfriend with the respect he deserves and I’m certain we won’t have any further problems,” he said coldly, pride filling his chest when Gabriel melted into his side and stared at the waiter defiantly.

Lauren grinned and there was a soft _‘aww’_ from the table behind them and most staff members and customers looked either impressed or like they were about to laugh at James’ sudden discomfort.

With the weight of a few dozen accusing eyes focused on him, James nodded tightly. “Of course, sir,” he grated out, bowing his head slightly in submission and Sam smirked triumphantly as the man disappeared into the kitchen.

A few customers clapped and Sam chuckled quietly as he squeezed his lover and allowed him to return to his fudge cake. Honestly, he was impressed Gabriel had managed to restrain himself from touching it for this long.

He rubbed the angel’s head slowly, soothing the area where the waiter had clocked him before digging into his own dessert. He grinned when Gabriel’s free hand slipped onto his thigh.

“I wish I could have seen his face,” murmured Raphael, making everyone snort.

 

* * *

 

The film they settled on was _Black Panther_. Jack was ecstatic and the other angels were secretly just as excited but able to hide it better, even Raphael, who wouldn’t be able to see the action. Sam and Dean wedged the angels between them out of some odd instinct to protect them after the waiter’s abuse and if the angels knew what they were doing, they didn’t say anything.

About half-way into the film, when his brothers and nephew were too engrossed with the fight sequences to swivel their heads and peer through the dark theatre to look at him, Gabriel slid an arm around Sam (made a little awkward because of the arm rests) and began mouthing kisses from his shoulder, up his neck and over his jaw. Sam smirked and captured the archangel’s lips, raising a hand to cup his cheek as he slowly lapped his way inside his mouth. Gabriel’s hand tangled in Sam’s hair, tugging him closer so he could taste his lover properly.

They broke away for air and Sam latched onto Gabriel’s jaw, kissing and nipping across it until he was right beside the angel’s ear, the stubble on their cheeks catching and making them both smile.

“I want you inside me tonight,” Sam whispered and Gabriel’s brain stuttered, all his blood rushing southwards.

“Yeah? How do you want it?” He managed, closing his eyes when Sam peppered kisses over his cheek.

“Slow,” murmured Sam into his skin. “And hard. I want to watch you. I want to enjoy touching you and take my time in exploring your wings. I want to claim your mouth as mine. I want to feel your hot skin against me. I want to taste your oil as you show me who I belong to. I want you to mark me until there’s no mistaking I’m yours.”

Gabriel bit back a possessive growl as he nuzzled into Sam’s neck. He kissed the soft flesh, sucking at it until a small, purple bruise became visible just above Sam’s collar. He smirked at his work and nuzzled the mark, feeling Sam relax into him.

“We can do that,” Gabriel breathed. Sam’s hand curled around the back of his neck.

“Good. I think you need a reward after earlier.”

Gabriel’s smile softened and he captured Sam’s lips again, sweet and tender and full of affection.

“Don’t let him bother you,” murmured Gabriel. “He means nothing. I have my family right here and that’s all I need.”

Sam leaned their foreheads together with a tiny frown.

“I just want people to treat you right. You’re kind and fun and amazing and I just wish people would see that instead of treating you like crap straight off the bat.”

Gabriel carded his fingers through Sam’s hair.

“Can’t change the way the world works, kiddo,” he sighed and Sam fell silent as he brushed a finger over Gabriel’s cool, metal collar. Even though it was unlocked and deactivated, it still made him angry. His angel should be free. All the angels should be free.

Gabriel watched the emotions flicker over Sam’s face before a thoughtful expression settled there. He tilted his head at the hunter curiously and scraped his nails lightly over his scalp.

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?” He whispered. Sam didn’t answer for a few moments before his gaze locked with Gabriel’s, slow and contemplating. Sam’s eyes flicked briefly to his collar before the strange look cleared and he shook his head with a small smile.

“Sorry. Nothing. Just a fantasy, I suppose.”

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. “A fantasy, huh? Anything I can help you fulfil?” He winked and Sam huffed out a quiet laugh before shaking his head again.

“Not that kind of fantasy. Although I do have a couple of those too,” he teased and Gabriel instantly perked up. Obviously, his lover didn’t want to talk about whatever he’d been thinking about, but the teasing was enough to prove he wasn’t too bothered by his thoughts. So, Gabriel allowed himself to wonder what kind of fantasies Sam had. He’d never been excited for sex in his past, despite learning about so many fetishes and ways of having sex, however it was different with Sam.

There was no humiliation or degrading slurs when it came to Sam. The hunter didn’t take pleasure in his agony and when bruises were involved, they were the good kind; the ones that spoke of their devotion to each other, their desire to belong to one another. Sam didn’t hurt him for fun.

Sam held him close and whispered praise against his skin; told him he needed him and that if he could pull the stars from the sky and offer them to Gabriel, he would. Sam told him he loved how his smile outshone the sun and he kissed his body as if it was something to be worshiped. He touched Gabriel’s wings as though they were precious and when they made love, it was as though Sam couldn’t get enough of his lips or his skin or the way he moaned. Their bodies writhed together, in sync, always touching, always trying to press closer, to make each other feel good and Gabriel had never felt that before. 

Before, sex had filled him with dread and emptiness and shame… now, it was something he craved. He was the only one who got to touch Sam like that and he was the only one Sam touched too. Sex meant something special to him now. Sex meant Sam would be there to erase his insecurities and his shame over his past; it meant his human would prove to him he was worth so much more than he’d believed. Sex meant Sam would take him apart, piece by piece until he was completely exposed to the hunter; all his doubts and fears and past hurt and Sam would heal him, little by little and rebuild him until he knew he was important and wanted and that he mattered to at least somebody.

He wasn’t just a couple of holes to fill or stock to be bred, not anymore. Not ever again.

Gabriel nuzzled into Sam’s neck again, breathing in his scent and basking in his warmth. His heart belonged to this human. He’d not admitted that to Sam yet, but deep down, he knew it was true. 

Sam shifted to lean back in his seat and he wrapped his arm around his archangel, pulling him a little closer so Gabriel could rest his head against shoulder as they returned their attention to the movie.

 

* * * 

 

Dean could get used to having Castiel’s wing draped around his shoulders as they ambled back to the cars. He could also get used to the way his arm fit perfectly around Castiel’s slim waist and how Castiel leaned into his side as they walked, a small smile on his face.

It was dark outside, probably approaching midnight. There were very few people around this part of town and that was possibly why Dean had gathered the courage to openly display his affection for his lover. Unlike Gabriel and Sam, he was a little more reserved when it came to the touchy-feely stuff, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like it. He just wasn’t sure how to handle everyone else watching, especially when he knew what a lot of people though about humans and monsters dating. It wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t exactly common either.

He wouldn’t let other people’s judgements dissuade him from courting Castiel, but that didn’t mean he had to encourage their comments in public. Two guys dating was enough to get the gossipers going; he didn’t need people commenting about his species of man either.

Fortunately, Castiel was far more reserved than his brother and he seemed to understand Dean’s hesitance in initiating contact in public. Dean felt a little guilty about it because he knew angels were a tactile species and he hoped he wasn’t depriving his lover too much, but if Castiel was bothered by the lack of physical contact earlier that day, he never mentioned it.

Guilt suddenly eating at his thoughts, Dean tugged Castiel a little tighter to his side. He could risk a bit more contact whilst they were shrouded in darkness, barely anyone around. They had a little distance to go before they reached his and Sam’s cars. It was a warm, pleasant night and Dean was determined to make the most of it, especially since he and Castiel were at the back of the entourage, everyone’s backs to them.

Castiel’s smile bloomed as Dean began peppering kisses over his jaw and cheek, silent and full of adoration. The angel slotted a hand into Dean’s back pocket, squeezing teasingly and Dean smirked and nipped his lover’s jaw. 

“I was hoping we could sleep alone tonight,” murmured Castiel lowly, tone full of promise and Dean felt a shiver run through his spine. This ‘dating guys’ was new to him but his body certainly seemed to approve.

“Yeah? And why’s that?” He mumbled.

Castiel’s hand slipped out of his pocket and slid beneath his waistband instead, fingers kneading gently at Dean’s ass cheek.

“For research purposes,” Castiel hummed innocently and Dean suddenly felt dizzy from the absence of blood in the upper half of his body. He thought he’d be nervous at the prospect of having sex with another male, but his mind was happily conjuring up images of Castiel writhing naked beneath him, groaning Dean’s name as he clutched Castiel’s beautiful raven feathers and thrust into him slow but firm, filling him up and claiming him as his. Then the image shifted; this time Dean was kneeling on all fours on the bed, Castiel draped over him, wings fanned out possessively as the seraph took him hard and rough, their bodies slick with sweat and Castiel’s hands roaming over Dean’s skin hungrily, teeth scraping over the soft flesh of Dean’s shoulder.

Dean suddenly felt very warm and the scent of Castiel so close to him was doing nothing to soothe him. If anything, it was helping to tent his jeans.

…Who knew he had a thing for manhandling?

Or at least angel-handling.

Castiel squeezed his ass again, a tiny smirk on his features. He nuzzled into Dean’s neck and curled his wing tighter around Dean’s body.

“If I took a look at your soul, what thoughts would I find?” He whispered against Dean’s skin and the hunter closed his eyes, trusting Castiel to guide him through the streets. After a few moments, he decided to indulge them both; there was no one watching anyway.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” He breathed and Castiel raised an eyebrow in surprise before gently reaching his grace out to Dean, brushing against his soul in a polite request for entrance.

Dean easily allowed him in, tightening his grip on the angel as he opened his eyes. This was a vulnerable position for both of them and Dean had no intention of letting anyone try to use it against them. The last thing they needed right now was something trying to attack their grace or soul. He needed to watch over his lover; to protect his angel.

Castiel caught the thought and glanced up at him in amusement before winding his grace with Dean’s soul and digging around for the images his mind had conjured up a few moments ago.

When he found them, his feathers puffed out and his gaze darkened, pupils blowing wide. The wing around Dean shifted slightly until the feathers brushed the backs of his thighs and Dean wondered what the angel was trying to achieve when suddenly, a finger began circling his hole.

Dean glanced around worriedly, but upon confirming nobody was watching (not that they could see with Castiel’s wing concealing his dirty deeds), Dean leaned into the angel and let Castiel’s grace soothe his nervous thoughts.

“Relax,” whispered Castiel, kissing his jaw sweetly. “If it gets too much, tell me.”

Dean nodded subtly and Castiel smiled and removed his hand from Dean’s jeans for a moment, making Dean frown in confusion. The hand quickly returned though, the finger circling his entrance again, only this time, it was… wet.

“My oil,” murmured Castiel at Dean’s puzzled expression and Dean was abruptly reminded of their conversation about angel oil when Sam had wandered around the house smelling of Gabriel’s. Angels used their oil on lovers and mates to stake a claim. Castiel was marking him; basically showing the world who he belonged to by using his own oil as scented lubricant.

That shouldn’t turn Dean on as much as it did.

Castiel once again caught the thought and smirked, lightly rubbing his finger over Dean’s hole.

“Try to keep quiet,” Castiel whispered, nodding to their brothers and Jack and Dean clamped down on his lip.

The finger alternated pressure for a few moments before the tip carefully slid inside Dean. The oil was cool and it felt a little strange to Dean at first, but then Castiel began nibbling and sucking at his jaw and _wow_ … this angel didn’t do anything slowly, did he?

The finger slipped all the way inside him as Castiel growled out a seductive _“No,”_ and Dean had to stop their walk to get used to the feeling of something inside him. He settled around it and awkwardly began walking again, cheeks flushed and hoping no one would see his slight limp. Eventually, his gait evened out again and Castiel slowly moved his finger inside him.

“You’re doing well, Dean,” praised Castiel quietly beside his ear. “I’m impressed. You will tell me if it becomes too much?”

Dean nodded, focusing on Castiel’s warm, deep voice. He had a feeling he was going to discover a lot of new kinks with this angel.

 _ **‘We’ll discover them together,’**_ Dean heard Castiel muse and he quirked a grin at being able to hear the angel’s thoughts through his grace. _**‘You’re my first time too.’**_

Dean cocked an eyebrow. _**‘First time with a human?’**_ The words were clear in his head and he hoped Castiel received them.

 _ **‘First time in a sexual relationship,’**_ Castiel corrected and shock blasted through his soul at that, making Castiel duck his head in embarrassment.

“You’ve never had sex before?” Breathed Dean and Castiel’s head ducked lower.

“I’ve not had much opportunity,” he reminded softly. “The care home wasn’t exactly an appropriate location for those sorts of desires and I was removed from the breeding facility before I was of age to produce viable offspring. You’re the first person I’ve felt true attraction for.”

And if Dean’s chest didn’t swell with pride at that.

He deflated a little though because for most of his life, his lover had been used and abused and had most of his freedom snatched from him. Dean would make sure he never experienced that again.

Castiel had removed his finger from Dean and had subtly cleaned them both up whilst Dean was lost in thought. His wings were drooping and his gaze was lowered as though ashamed of himself and Dean frowned at the sight.

He cupped Castiel’s chin and pressed their lips together in a tender kiss.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel murmured and Dean chased his grace before it had time to recoil from his soul. He cradled it comfortingly and nuzzled his lover’s cheek.

“Don’t know why you’re apologising,” he mumbled. “But tonight, you’re gonna lie on our bed and I’m gonna strip you naked and kiss every inch of your body. Then, I’m gonna groom your wings and play with your oil glands and I’m gonna kiss you some more whilst you decide whether you want to touch me or just enjoy being taken care of for once.”

He claimed Castiel’s lips a little more heatedly, smirking at the angel’s fluffed up feathers.

“Then, do you know what I’m gonna do?” He whispered with an amused smile as Castiel tried chasing his lips.

The seraph shook his head, stealing another kiss.

Dean’s arm curved around the angel, hand settling over his stomach.

“Then, I’m gonna sink down your body and fondle your balls as I wrap my lips around your gorgeous- ”

There was a crash and a grunt as something fell over in a particularly dark and narrow alley and the whole group swivelled their heads to squint into the tiny space. Castiel’s grace quickly pulled back from Dean’s soul to protect them both as there was another grunt and a hissed curse.

When the group finally made out two distinctly feminine bodies and a male, Lucifer dragged Jack into his chest protectively, covering his son’s eyes as the adults watched on in horror.

One of the women was clearly a demon; petite with pretty oriental features and two elegant, twisting, forest-green horns and wings to match.

Her lower half was bare; her jeans around her ankles and her underwear resting around her knees as the humans behind her crushed her into the wall of a bar, gripping a horn and a wing to stop her from breaking free. The male human was buried deep inside her ass, thrusting roughly as he kept a painful grip on her wing and stamped on her tail.

Her cry was muffled by the gag in her mouth; the man’s tie, maybe? The human woman chuckled and purred encouragements to what was most likely her husband and they shared a filthy kiss before the woman shoved two fingers inside the demon’s free hole, harsh and fast.

The demon’s unrestrained wing flapped desperately as tears streamed down her face and the humans chuckled and quickened their pace, the woman inserting three fingers as her husband slammed his hips forwards, making the demon whimper.

The woman suddenly let go of a horn and tore open the demon’s blouse, her husband groaning in approval when his wife freed their victim’s breasts. The woman hit the demon’s breasts a few times, before groping them with a moan of her own as the demon sobbed around her gag.

Dean’s feet were moving before he had a chance to register what he was doing and he smashed his fist into the guy’s jaw, sending him stumbling backwards.

The guy yelped in surprise, pants around his knees as he stared up at Dean and the hunter curled his lip in disgust. He quickly whirled around to grab the woman, yanking her away from the suddenly quiet demon, and he hurled her onto the floor beside her husband.

“Hey! Don’t touch my wife!” Snarled the man, buttoning his pants up as he clambered to his feet and puffed his chest out. He was slightly smaller than Dean and far more lean.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Sit down before I ram my fist through your face,” he growled dangerously as Sam came to the demon’s aid, gently guiding her away from the couple and allowing her to cover herself. She stared at her newly buttonless blouse forlornly and Sam’s gaze softened as he offered her his jacket. She stared at him suspiciously for a moment before taking the item and slipping it on. It buried her tiny frame and her wings were trapped inside it but she held it tighter around her and dropped her gaze.

The man squared his shoulders, sizing Dean up and Dean rolled his eyes when he took a swing at him. He easily dodged the man’s fist and, in a flash, caught the guy’s arm and twisted it until he had the leverage to force the guy onto the ground again.

“You’re both under arrest,” growled Dean, glancing around for anything he could use to bind the man’s hands. Sam strode over to the woman and grasped her wrists. Castiel waved a hand subtly and Dean grinned at his lover when a pair of handcuffs hooked themselves over his and Sam’s belts. Dean turned to the man with a scowl. “You have the right to remain silent but anything- ”

“On what grounds are you arresting us?” Snarled the man furiously. Sam and Dean gaped at him.

“You’re kidding, right?” Hissed Sam.

The couple looked genuinely confused and Sam bristled. “Your victim?” He snapped.

The woman frowned at the cowering demon before cocking an eyebrow at Sam.

“The monster?” She snorted. “That’s what they’re here for. Besides, demons are evil anyway. They don’t feel anything. Their only goal in life is to hurt and kill. It’s not like it cares what a couple of humans do to it. They can’t process anything further than anger and hatred.” She shook her head and her gaze softened. 

“We’re not bad people. We’d never dream of doing anything like that with a human, but monsters are different. Humans can’t really hurt them because most of them can heal themselves or their skin is too thick. Also, they don’t have emotions like we do, so it’s okay.”

Sam’s stomach churned and Dean felt bile bubble up his throat. The demon was trembling, tail wrapped around herself as she eyed the angels and what she thought were other creatures fearfully. They gazed at her in a mixture of wariness and pity, instinctual tension between their species still present despite the situation.

“You think it doesn’t bother her that you raped her?” Spat Sam.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been curious about going interspecies,” huffed the husband as his gaze flicked pointedly to the angels. “Living with that many monsters, you must know they don’t have the same reservations about sex as we do. They heal themselves once we’re finished with them, so it mustn’t bother them. Why should it? It’s not like we’re outright abusing them. We don’t aim to make them suffer. You didn’t see me using holy water or a demon knife on that creature, did you?”

Dean snapped the cuffs on the man, a low growl vibrating in his chest.

“You’re sick. How can you justify rape? How can you sit there and tell us you’re _‘not bad people’_ when that poor girl is shaking over there, sobbing?”

The man scowled. “It’s a demon. It doesn’t care. They enjoy that sort of thing anyway.”

Dean crouched down, eye level with the man as he gritted his teeth.

“I’m getting real close to punching your lights out, buddy. Might wanna shut up.”

“What kind of corrupt cops are you?” Snapped the woman. “Does your boss know you’re targeting innocent members of the public close to midnight with an intimidating mix of monsters to back you up?”

Dean narrowed his eyes as Sam stood to call the station. The older hunter was burning with so much rage and disgust, he didn’t trust himself to speak in case he lashed out at the couple. He was already on thin ice with the commissioner; he didn’t need to throw himself out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“Are you even cops?” Huffed the woman and Dean had to stand and take a step backwards to calm himself.

He wanted to throw these two in one of their cars, dump them at the station and curl up in bed beside Castiel, where he knew his angel was safe and not in danger of being hurt by psychos like these two.

A few moments later, Sam returned with a grim expression. “Vic says we have to bring the demon in too for questioning.”

Dean bristled. “Hasn’t she been through enough?”

Sam sighed. “The attackers may not be her owner and that means if they get put away, she has to go to the adoption centre. First though, we have to make sure the assault was entirely the decision of the couple.”

Dean bared his teeth angrily. “They think she wanted to be raped?”

Sam held his hands up. “Not my words,” he sighed. “Apparently it’s protocol.”

Dean wanted to punch something.

“And Vic says you’re not allowed to bring them in because you’re not supposed to be out in the field. If you don’t come in, he can ignore you were acting against your restrictions.”

Dean ground his teeth together. “Fine,” he growled quietly. “But you’re taking them in the Prius. I’ll wait for you to come back so we can bring the angels home. I’m not leaving any of them out here on their own.”

Sam nodded in understanding. “I’ll get the car,” he muttered, leaving Dean to glare at the two humans in repulsion. He did risk a couple of glances over at the demon and managed a weak smile when the angels shuffled closer to her, soothing her quietly as she leaned into Michael’s chest and sobbed, his wings curling around her securely.

He leaned against the wall and kept an eye on the frustrated couple. He couldn’t wait to go home.

 

* * *

 

It was five in the morning when they finally got home, thanks to the station questioning Sam on his role at the crime scene and the couple accusing Sam and Dean of assault, which meant that Dean also had to be wrangled into the station. The angels had waited in the cars until the married couple had also accused them of being used as an intimidation tactic and then they were all being interrogated, even young Jack who was terrified at being hauled away from his father and locked in a room with a human he didn’t know.

It wasn’t even Victor who questioned them; it was one of the commissioner’s direct underlings, who made the angels feel as though they had been the ones to rape the demon (who they’d found out was named Dagon). The whole process was exhausting and confusing and Lucifer had kicked up a fuss at Jack being dragged away from him, making the officer in charge of the interrogation suspicious and even harsher on them all. It was sufficed to say Dean was not in the commissioner’s good books, but Dean refused to care because he’d done the right thing even if the commissioner wanted him to do the easy thing and assume all monsters were in the wrong.

They shuffled in to the house wearily, Sam and Dean not convinced they had the energy to crawl up the stairs to bed. Fortunately, it seemed the angels were in the same mindset and Raphael waved his hand carelessly and the air bed appeared in the centre of the floor, couches and table sliding out of the way as it morphed into an oversized mattress piled with cushions and blankets. 

Jack made a relieved noise and clutched his father’s hand as he dragged him to the mattress. The older archangel slumped onto the bed, tugging Jack into his chest protectively and smiling when Raphael curled around his back and wrapped his wings around them both.

Michael’s lips quirked upwards at the scene before he gently pushed on Dean and Sam’s shoulders.

“You’re sleeping with us tonight,” he grumbled, leaving no room for argument and both hunters startled when Gabriel and Castiel eagerly tugged them over to the cuddle pile and magicked them all into sleepwear. Their lovers flopped down onto the bed and Sam and Dean glanced at each other awkwardly for a few moments before Dean remembered how he’d woken up that morning; warm and content and surrounded by happy angels he called his family. He shrugged and lowered himself onto the bed, chuckling softly when Gabriel and Castiel immediately latched onto his sides, black and gold feathers swarming around him as the two angels used him as a pillow.

Sam raised a shocked eyebrow and Dean grinned. “Hey, if you’re not gonna cuddle your boyfriend, I will.”

Gabriel smirked and pressed closer to Dean, his arm curling tighter around the human as he nestled into his shoulder.

Immediately, Sam crawled onto the mattress, snuggling up to Gabriel’s back as he wrapped his arms around the archangel and Gabriel made a contented sound as he closed his eyes. Sam jumped when Michael crawled over to use his thigh as a pillow and he watched, stunned, as Lucifer and Raphael shifted so they could rest against Dean’s stomach, Jack nestled between them.

Gabriel laced a hand over Sam’s, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Dean thought it was weird at first too.”

Sam glanced over Gabriel’s shoulder to see Dean on his back, smirking, eyes closed and his arms wrapped around Castiel and Gabriel as the seraph nuzzled into his neck.

“It’s just one of our customs,” yawned Gabriel. “Don’t think too hard about it.”

Sam nodded and held Gabriel a little tighter. Actually, it was kind of nice. After the stress of the night and the horrific crime they’d been witnesses to, this sense of family and home was exactly what he needed.

A smile touched his lips as the room fell silent, the rustle of feathers and soft breaths of his friends sleeping the only sounds breaking it. He glanced around once more at the exhausted men he called family before closing his eyes and tumbling into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief rape scene in this chapter (but nothing to do with any of our boys)
> 
> This is a build-up chapter for the next one really. I think there's only a couple of chapters left now and the things that have happened here will be built upon in the next chapter (a sort of 'moral turning point'). Hope you enjoyed the fluff!


	19. Chapter 19

Sam’s eyes fluttered open slowly. Kisses were being lightly peppered over his jaw and someone was nuzzling into his chest. There was also something warm and solid on his stomach and fingers skirted up his thigh, gentle and affectionate.

Sam glanced around carefully to find Gabriel latched onto his side, the archangel’s arms and wings wrapped around him as he lavished his jaw with tender kisses. To his left, Sam saw Michael snuggled up to him, wings draped over both him and Gabriel as the older archangel nuzzled into his chest with a contented smile. Resting on Sam’s stomach lay Raphael, who was drawing patterns into his thigh with his fingers, looking relaxed and happy.

Sam took a moment to savour the scene as a warm smile brightened his face. This had to be at the top of his list of most adorable things he’d ever seen.

Curious, he glanced over to Dean, who was wide awake and chatting quietly with Castiel and Lucifer. Jack was still asleep, sprawled out over Dean’s stomach and clutching his shirt with one hand. The hunter had his arms wrapped securely around Castiel and Lucifer and Lucifer’s wings were curled possessively around both seraph and human. Both angels lay against Dean’s shoulders as they listened to his deep voice and Sam realised he’d never seen his brother look so relaxed in his life.

“Sleep well, kiddo?” Murmured Gabriel quietly, breaking the string of kisses to nuzzle at Sam’s cheek instead.

Sam nodded lazily and snaked his arms around Gabriel and Michael, making his lover hum and Michael practically mewl in approval.

Sam pressed a tender kiss to Gabriel’s forehead and Gabriel let his head flop against the hunter’s shoulder.

“Can we stay like this forever?” Mumbled Sam sleepily, holding his angels closer. He’d never felt this sort of bone-deep contentment before and he’d like it to last as long as possible.

Gabriel smiled and nosed at his neck as Michael brushed his knuckles over Sam’s ribs.

“Mmm… that would be nice,” drawled Gabriel softly. “But I’m afraid we have to go to work at some point.”

Sam frowned and slid his fingers into the bases of Gabriel and Michael’s wings, massaging them.

Michael made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh as Gabriel pressed his lips to Sam’s jaw again.

“Not yet,” Sam grumbled. He wasn’t ready to leave his angels yet. He wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour, he decided.

Gabriel chuckled. “No, not yet,” he agreed, tightening his grip on Sam.

Sam relaxed into the mass of cushions and blankets surrounding them, basking in this newfound happiness he’d never experienced before. He’d always assumed he knew what the word ‘home’ meant but now he realised he’d never truly understood it. This was home and family and love and trust. This was what it meant to be wanted and cared for. Now he’d experienced it, he wondered how he’d ever lived so long without it.

He glanced over at Dean, wondering if he felt the same way, only to find his brother smiling fondly at him, Lucifer and Castiel casting their gazes over to him as well.

“Feels awesome, doesn’t it?” Chuckled Dean and Sam nodded, unable to wipe the stupid grin from his face.

“It’s like all the bad stuff just… doesn’t matter anymore,” murmured Sam.

Gabriel wriggled and began carding his fingers through his lover’s hair.

“Angel grace is a powerful drug,” he hummed.

Sam cocked an eyebrow and Raphael nuzzled into his stomach.

“Imagine injecting yourself with a large dose of serotonin but without all the nasty side effects,” he mumbled. “That’s what you’ve been slowly absorbing all night.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve drugged me?”

Raphael shrugged. “Not intentionally.”

Sam huffed out a laugh and resumed stroking Michael and Gabriel’s wings. He instinctively knew these angels would never hurt him. Judging by the way Lucifer was nuzzling into Dean’s neck and neither of them seemed concerned by the fact, Sam was going to guess that he wasn’t the only one affected.

“Sam?”

The hunter shifted his gaze to Gabriel and the archangel kissed his cheek adoringly.

“Can we touch your soul? We’re all curious after your brother proved to be aware of his yesterday.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and glanced at his brother, who shrugged.

“I know it sounds sketchy but you’ll enjoy it.”

Sam returned his attention to Gabriel and nodded cautiously. Souls were vulnerable things and he had always been taught to protect his. Certain creatures could meddle with souls, changing or corrupting a person and Sam had never really fancied a personality change into a blood-lusting psychopath.

Gabriel smiled in delight and immediately, Sam felt something that oozed like honey brush against his soul. Then something else joined it, this one smooth and silky. Soon, there were a number of tendrils prodding at his soul, a combination of tanginess and rich earthiness and smokiness, all begging for entrance. Carefully, Sam allowed them in.

Then he melted into a puddle of gooey contentedness as the angels’ graces swamped his soul with curiousness and excitement and affection. Their touches turned teasing and playful as they weaved in and out of his soul, cradling or sinking into it as though they belonged there and Sam let his eyes slip shut as he basked in their light. As far as he was concerned, they did belong there, nestled against his soul, safe and loved.

Gabriel arched against Sam, practically purring as Michael made a strangled noise, Lucifer whimpering beside Dean. Raphael squeezed Sam’s thigh and even Castiel sighed shakily as they all sunk deeper into his soul, holding onto it almost desperately.

Dean looked concerned and was about to ask what was wrong when Lucifer spoke up, voice choked.

“You think we belong here?” He whispered before licking his lips. “You love us?”

Sam blinked, stunned, whipping his head towards Lucifer sharply and Dean began to laugh as he understood what had happened.

“They can read your thoughts when you’re connected like that,” he grinned and Sam’s eyes widened, tips of his ears burning pink.

“Try not to think of any porn,” teased Dean.

Castiel huffed at his lover and Dean snickered before he fell silent when five tendrils of energy poked at his own soul.

“Open up, smartass,” grunted Gabriel.

Dean eagerly did as asked and sighed softly when his soul was enveloped by soothing grace.

Gabriel buried his face into Sam’s neck with a quiet groan. “I’m calling in sick today,” he announced. “No way am I leaving this house.”

Sam smiled triumphantly and kissed his lover’s head. He toyed with Gabriel’s feathers for a minute before cautiously brushing his soul against the angels’ graces, attempting to see if he could gather what they were feeling and thinking. It was confusing sifting through five graces at once but the angels were patient, smiling in amusement as they allowed him to explore. After a moment, Sam was hit with an image; a memory of some sort.

_He was in a narrow cage. His body burned all over and the coppery tang of blood filled his nostrils, making him flinch. It hurt to even breathe and the collar around his neck weighed heavy and mocking, buzzing and shocking him every so often seemingly for fun. He winced at an explosion of cheers and laughter from another room and turned away when a dead wendigo was dragged across the floor in front of his cell, trailing blood across the grotty wood._

_He wrapped his arms around himself and squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears. He wanted his family. Wanted someone to hold him close and tell him they loved him. Wanted someone to just touch him without intending to hurt him._

_His gaze snapped up to the front of his cage when the lock rattled and his eyes widened in fear when huge, metal poles were rammed into his cage, the hooks on their ends piercing his wings and making him cry out in agony. He instinctively tried to heal himself, but the collar buzzed angrily and he slumped in defeat, body aching. Someone laughed and then his cage was being opened, a chain attached to his collar as he was hauled to his feet by his already shackled wrists._

_He closed his eyes, trying not to look at the human smirking at him, but he was rewarded with a smack to his already bruised face for his efforts. Tears prickled at his eyes and he dragged his gaze upwards, wings trembling as the human smiled._

_“You get to face the winner,” the human drawled, breath reeking of smoke and alcohol, making Sam’s stomach churn as he gestured to the bloody trail the dead wendigo had left._

_He swallowed fearfully as he was yanked towards the ring, a whip cracking at his back just because the humans surrounding him thought it was funny. He was thrown into the arena, his wings unhooked and his wrists unbound as the chain was removed from his collar. He tried to make a break for the exit, but he was shocked for his disobedience._

_He dragged himself to his feet again and stared at his opponent._

_Demon. Knight._

_She had fiery red hair and murder in her eyes and he cowered slightly at the blood coating her body and the smirk twisting her lips._

_He wanted his brothers. He wanted to curl up in their arms and never let go._

_He wanted to tell them he loved them, one last time before he died._

_A tear slid down his cheek. He’d never get to see them again, would he?_

_Suddenly, the demon’s chain was released and she raced towards him with a vicious snarl, eyes a deep black and knife clutched in one hand._

_He summoned his blade, wings trembling._

Michael quickly pulled Sam out of the memory, wrapping his grace around his distressed soul.

“It gets… bloody after that,” Michael murmured softly, thumb skating over Sam’s ribs comfortingly.

Chest suddenly tight as his lungs struggled to drag in air, Sam tugged Michael up his body, tucking the angel’s head under his chin. Michael yelped in surprise but soon relaxed when Sam tightened his grip, fisting one of his wings to ground himself.

Sam took a few deep, calming breaths, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to rid himself of the lingering feelings of isolation and hopelessness and agony. The angels had experienced those feelings for the majority of their lives and they still faced nightmares where they were back in those situations, where they were utterly alone and in blinding pain, being forced to do terrible things against their will. They were still fearful that one day they would be forced to return to that life; losing their family all over again, being so touch-starved it was difficult to remember what warmth felt like, sometimes craving abuse and pain just so they could remember what it was like to be touched, to feel.

Michael curled his fingers against Sam’s shirt, holding onto him almost desperately and Sam realised the angels were reading his thoughts. Even Dean was looking strained at the sudden change in emotions, holding Lucifer and Castiel that little bit closer.

“Sometimes, I wake up and forget I’m not there anymore,” Michael whispered after a moment of silence. He fisted Sam’s shirt, voice cracking slightly. “You won’t leave us, will you? We don’t have to go back, do we?”

Sam bit back a growl. Michael sounded so broken, so afraid. Even Gabriel was pressing his face into Sam’s neck, trying to wriggle closer in search of reassurance, as if he could somehow convince the hunter to let them all stay.

“You’re flock,” growled Dean suddenly, barely-restrained anger lacing his tone. “Your home is here. End of. Anyone tries to hurt you, they get a shotgun to the face, courtesy of me.”

“And me,” agreed Sam, making a mental note to ask Dean what the word 'flock' meant to the angels. “No one’s taking you away and we certainly aren’t gonna kick out our own family.”

Both Winchesters melted into the mattress as their souls were swamped by grateful, excited graces. 

“Thank you,” whispered Michael and Sam tangled his fingers in silver feathers.

They fell silent again, basking in each other’s presence before Sam’s mind began to wander. He thought about his own life; how he’d lost his mother and then his father. How he’d been so distraught and angry that he’d labelled all monsters as evil, even though he’d never got along well with his father in the first place. He thought about how he’d never really known his mother and how his childhood had been full of his father’s alcoholism and disappointment of his sons. How he and Dean had never been good enough for their dad. He thought about how he’d escaped it all by going to Stanford, only for his late girlfriend to fall victim to a vampire who attended the school, solidifying his opinion of monsters.

He grimaced at the memory of Jessica and shoved it down again, like he had been doing for the past few years. He’d never truly accepted her death and he didn’t need to start thinking about it now.

He remembered throwing himself into his schooling after that and once he heard his dad had died, he remembered feeling… empty. What was the point of it all? He gave up his dreams of being a lawyer and became a police officer instead in an attempt to be closer to Dean and prove to his dead father that he could follow his orders. Of course, it was too late by then.

Yet, despite losing his family and love, he seemed to have found a new one; a little broken and sad, but still his family. A smile tugged at his lips. _And a new love,_ he thought in amusement.

Gabriel carded his fingers through Sam’s hair. “You never told me you had a girlfriend,” he murmured, curious and without a hint of accusation. 

Sam shrugged a little forcedly. “I try not to think about her too much.”

Dean’s gaze softened, heart aching for his brother. Sam had found Jessica in their room, sprawled over the floor in a pool of her own blood, throat sliced open. Apparently, the vampire had decided the traditional method of drinking wasn’t fast enough and he wasn’t satisfied with taking just a small portion; he’d wanted a feast.

He allowed the angels to see what he’d witnessed; Jessica’s pale body being covered by the paramedics as Sam sobbed brokenly beside her, doubled over and clutching his hair as tears flooded the bloodied carpet. He allowed them to see the shiny engagement ring he’d found in one of Sam’s drawers, brand new and never been opened by anyone but Sam.

He felt distress from all the angels at the images, but Gabriel’s grace burned with the most sorrow and agony and anger for the creature who’d caused Sam’s pain.

Castiel latched onto Dean’s own distress and pressed his lips to the hunter’s jaw. Dean smiled gratefully and petted a raven wing.

As the Winchesters and their angels lay there, touching and comforting each other, Sam suddenly felt nauseous. These angels were so kind, so good to him and Dean despite everything they’d faced at human hands. They trusted him and Dean to take care of them, to protect them whilst also managing to help the Winchesters whenever they could, from doing chores around the house, to soothing them on bad days.

Yet they were still humiliated and degraded by people like that waiter last night. The archangels couldn’t even be themselves in fear of being handed over to the government. They would face abuse and bullying for the rest of their lives.

What if next time, it was more than a muttered insult or a knock on the head from a tray? Castiel had nearly been killed by Gordon on that last hunt. Jack had been yanked away from Lucifer at the station, making him fearful and panicked. Sam and Dean couldn’t protect them all the time, no matter how hard they tried.

What if next time, Castiel was killed? What if the waiter had resorted to assaulting Gabriel in the same way Dagon had been assaulted? What if Jack had panicked so much, he released his wings accidentally and the station realised he wasn’t the shape-shifter he’d been posing as? What if Lucifer had grown angry enough at his son being taken away from him that he had released his wings and he had been handed over to the government for being an archangel?

They couldn’t live in hiding forever, could they? They shouldn’t have to put up with all the abuse from humans and feel defenceless against it. They shouldn’t be so fearful of being found out to be archangels that they couldn’t even protect themselves or their family from psychos who wanted to hurt them.

“Sam,” Gabriel said gently, lifting him out of his dark thoughts. He pressed a kiss to the hunter’s cheek. “Calm down.”

Sam glanced around to find the other angels staring at him with concerned gazes.

“This isn’t fair,” he whispered, stomach churning. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

The angels tilted their heads and even Dean was frowning now. Gabriel kissed his face again.

“Easy, kiddo. Don’t get yourself wound up.”

Sam shook his head violently and propped himself up on his elbows.

“No. This isn’t right. You can’t keep hiding who you are for the rest of your lives. You shouldn’t be afraid all the time. You shouldn’t have to wear those stupid collars,” he spat.

He could feel the alarm and panic slowly building in Raphael, Michael and Lucifer as the latter two stared at Sam with wide eyes.

“We can’t exactly prance around town with our wings on display and toss our collars into a bonfire,” said Gabriel calmly. “No matter how much we disagree with the law.”

Sam shook his head again. “You should be free,” he insisted.

Gabriel quirked a bitter smile as he kissed Sam’s shoulder. “But we’re not,” he replied quietly.

Michael, Lucifer and Raphael slowly relaxed again upon realising Sam wasn’t going to make any rash decisions about revealing their identities.

“There must be something we can do,” whispered Sam. “Anything. You guys deserve to be happy. You deserve freedom.”

“Trust me, Sam. This is enough. What you guys are doing right now; taking care of us, giving us freedom in your home. Heck, giving us a home. It’s more than enough. You’ve done so much for us already; you reunited our family, saved us all from a life of pain and we’ll be forever in your debt.” Gabriel offered him a genuine smile. “Trust me when I say we really are happy.”

The other angels nodded in agreement, but Sam looked frustrated.

“You deserve respect,” he insisted. “You should be free to walk on the street without someone spitting at you or calling you degrading names.”

“Not all humans are like that,” reasoned Raphael. “We can cope with the odd insult. It’s not that bad. Besides, you treat us with respect.”

Sam scowled. “You should have the same opportunities as humans. Jobs, pleasure activities, wages… you shouldn’t be treated like second-class citizens and slaves, or objects for humans to use whenever it suits them.”

“One man can’t change the way the world works, Sam,” Castiel murmured softly and Sam looked upset at that.

He fell quiet, feeling like he had failed his family.

“You haven’t failed us,” murmured Michael with a small smile, grace cradling Sam’s soul. “You’ve done more for us than we could have ever dreamed of.”

“And what about Jack?” Sam whispered. “What happens when we’re not around to protect him anymore? Where will he go? What if his new ‘masters’ don’t treat him right? What if they hurt him? Will we have failed him?”

Michael snapped his mouth shut, the angels growing silent as coldness gripped their graces.

Sam frowned. “If we die on the job or get hospitalised for a long time, what happens to you guys? What if someone finds out who you are?” He shook his head. “We haven’t solved anything. You guys are still gonna live in fear in case anything happens to us and you’re thrown into your old lives again. The only way you’re gonna escape that is if the country changes its views on monsters.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Scowled Lucifer. “There are plenty of monster sympathisers out there, but nobody listens to them. They’re all deemed nuts and ignored. You can’t change the world by preaching kindness and love; it just doesn’t work.”

Sam deflated.

“We’re flattered you care about us so much,” sighed Gabriel, “but maybe you should just accept defeat on this one. This world is resistant to change and unfortunately, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Dean frowned and licked his lips contemplatively.

“…Maybe we can’t change the world, but we might be able to change the USA,” he said slowly. “Or at least, we can stir things up a little.”

Castiel cocked an eyebrow at his lover. “What do you mean?”

“Your collars…” Dean said thoughtfully. “They’re all made by the same company.”

“So?”

“And they’re all updated by the same servers.”

“So, what’s your point, Dean-o?” Hummed Gabriel. 

Dean looked deep in thought. “…What if we could introduce a virus into those servers?”

The angels frowned in confusion but Sam’s eyes widened comically in realisation.

“We would cause a country-wide collar malfunction,” he said. “We get the right virus code and we could cause every collar to simultaneously deactivate.”

The angels blinked as Dean nodded slowly.

“Chainmail will have back-up programmes to clean up their systems,” continued Sam, quickly, “but even if the virus is allowed to act for a few seconds, it’ll give monsters enough time to remove their collars before they’re reactivated again.”

“That’s a lot of monsters to recollar,” commented Dean as Sam nodded eagerly.

“And they’re not gonna be captured willingly. The last time there was a mass collaring, it was because monsters believed they were getting a better deal out of it; acceptance and free food and peace between all the different species. This time, they’d be wiser. They wouldn’t let themselves get caught without a fight. If the government tried to collar all those suddenly free monsters, there would be chaos. There would have to be some sort of compromise; a deal of sorts between monsters and humans if we wanted peace.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows in alarm. “Hundreds of monsters and humans alike would perish in that sort of chaos. Some monsters will want revenge and they will kill any human the first chance they get. Freeing every creature at once would be unwise, to say the least.”

“Look where your brothers came from, Cas,” frowned Dean. “Do you think any of the humans involved would care if monsters died on their watch? Michael came from a fighting ring where humans literally made creatures battle one another to the death. They don’t even have a chance at survival. If they were released, they could at least defend themselves; they wouldn’t have to fight one another.”

Castiel sat upright and stared at Sam and Dean in bewilderment.

“Many humans would die. You can’t seriously be considering this? Humans could be wiped out.”

Sam shook his head. “Only the ones that treated you guys with distaste. The humans that abused monsters and treated them as slaves.”

Castiel’s wings twitched in distress. “You don’t know that. For all you know, all these creatures at full-power could choose to wipe out all of humanity and if they don’t succeed, they’ll be killed by the authorities.”

“They’re already being killed,” sighed Dean. “Releasing them gives them a chance at defending themselves. And besides, we know all of humanity wouldn’t be slaughtered.”

Castiel scowled. “How? How can you possibly predict that?”

“Well… would you let us die?” Asked Dean.

Castiel snapped his mouth shut as Lucifer growled protectively and held Dean a little tighter, wing curling more securely around him.

Dean smirked. “You don’t think you’re the only ones who have owners they actually like? What about Bobby and Charlie and Ellen and Jo? There are plenty of humans out there who aren’t total psychos. Humans who actually take care of the creatures in their home. Many humans are friends with monsters and treat them as family. Those humans aren’t going to be disintegrated by their dragons or stabbed by their wraiths. That alone is proof we can all get along if we just treat each other with respect.”

“And freeing monsters would be the first step to that,” continued Sam. “Humans shouldn’t have power over you guys. Your collars are never activated and you’ve never tried to kill us, so why would it be different for other monsters?”

Gabriel coughed pointedly and Sam rolled his eyes. “We were dicks to you so that doesn’t count.”

Gabriel grinned and Sam returned his gaze to Castiel. “You’re right. People will get hurt and some will probably die, but in the end, things will settle down and we can start to learn how to live together. It won’t be like starting from scratch because some humans and monsters will already be living in harmony.” 

“Unless you guys are planning on leaving us any time soon?” Asked Dean.

The archangels shook their heads quickly, leaving Castiel to deflate as he realised his brothers agreed with the Winchesters and he was the only one who appeared to see a problem with the plan.

“If not the world, then at least all of the USA will be in turmoil,” insisted Castiel. “Children will be afraid to leave their homes, monsters like those in the fighting ring will become serial killers of humans and other monsters alike, hospitals will be overrun with injuries and deaths. There will be an all-out war between monsters and humans and maybe even fighting between different species of monsters. There will be countless acts of destruction to businesses and homes. I understand your intentions are good, but this is not the way to do it.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Frowned Sam. “Are you honestly happy with how the world works at the moment? Are you saying it’s better for monsters to be abused and treated like slaves or property rather than at least giving them a chance to fight back? Yes, people will die. But monsters are suffering every day and if they are released, not all of them will become cold-blooded murderers. Many will just want to escape.” Sam’s gaze softened. “We need to do something. Freedom is never easy; everyone has to fight for it. But if we can offer you guys a chance at freedom now, maybe in the future, no one will have to suffer. Maybe we’ll all be able to live in peace.”

“And what if innocent people die?” Sighed Castiel. “Will you be able to handle that? Will you be able to live with the fact that your actions have caused even one innocent death?”

Sam clamped his mouth shut, dropping his gaze and Castiel felt Dean’s soul slowly pulling away from his grace in shame.

A tense silence fell between them. Then, after a few moments, Dean spoke up quietly.

“If you guys were thrown back into your old lives because we had the chance to help you but didn’t take it, I definitely wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

His gaze flicked up to meet Castiel’s and they stared at one another for a moment before Castiel sagged.

“You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Dean nodded. “I’ve already killed innocent monsters,” he murmured, gaze pained. “I’ve done so many things I’m not proud of. But if I can give future generations a chance at living together without owners and masters and collars, then maybe I can say I’ve done some good in this world.”

Castiel’s lips drew downwards and he glanced over at Sam, who was being comforted and kissed by Gabriel.

He sighed. “It goes against my nature as a healer to start a war,” he said, “but I’ll admit, a future wherein we all get along sounds divine.”

Dean perked up hopefully, but Castiel wasn’t finished. He turned to his lover with a frown.

“If you do decide to follow through with this ridiculous plan, you realise the chances of you getting caught are immensely high? You’ll be stuck behind bars forever.”

The archangels glanced at one another worriedly, but Dean merely laced his fingers over Castiel’s in a rare display of affection.

“In which case, you guys are all going to fly to Bobby’s and tell him you need a place to stay. He won’t turn you away.”

Castiel’s scowl deepened. “That’s not what I meant. You are our flock; our family. We don’t intend on losing you.”

“We don’t intend on getting caught,” shrugged Dean. “But know Bobby will take you in if we do.”

“Wait, so you’re really going to do this?” Asked Raphael, surprised. “You’re just going to waltz into Chainmail and insert a virus into the collar update system?”

“Well, we’re not gonna do it immediately because we’re going to have to plan things out,” said Sam. “The place is going to be crawling with security and it won’t be easy to hack into their computers.”

Dean smirked. “Fortunately, we happen to know someone with the right skill set.”

 

* * *

 

“Father?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“Why are Uncle Castiel and Uncle Gabriel’s wings so droopy?”

“…Because Sam and Dean are going away for a couple of days.”

Jack wrinkled his nose. “They’ve gone away before. Why are Uncle Cas and Gabe upset now?”

Lucifer sighed and leaned back on the couch, opening his arms in invitation for Jack to perch in his lap. The nephilim abandoned his artwork in favour of snuggling into his father’s chest.

“Because this time, they might not come back,” Lucifer murmured, carding his fingers through Jack’s feathers. In all honesty, he had grown rather fond of the Winchesters. In fact, he considered them part of his little flock and as the days had passed, the idea of the humans sneaking into Chainmail’s headquarters had become a part of his nightmares. What if tomorrow was the last time he’d see them? What if they were captured and locked in a cell for the rest of their lives? What if they got hurt? The Winchesters had been adamant about not risking their angels’ safety and had demanded they remain at home, but Lucifer wasn’t sure he would be able to stand the waiting; the feeling of not being able to protect the younger men.

Jack’s eyes widened in alarm and he sat up straight, wings flaring in horror.

“What do you mean? Where are they going? What makes you think they’ll leave us? They wouldn’t do that! We’re flock! Flock sticks together!”

Lucifer’s heart ached for his son and he gathered the boy into his arms and nuzzled his hair soothingly.

“You’re right. They’d never choose to leave us. But they’re going away to try to help us; to free us.”

“We’re already free,” scowled Jack. “The Winchesters saved us. They don’t have to leave.”

“They did, but… do you remember all those other creatures surrounding us in that facility? Back before we met the Winchesters?” Asked Lucifer softly and Jack nodded, wriggling closer to his father. He didn’t like to talk about the facility. He had a lot of nightmares about it.

“Well, the Winchesters want to free all those guys too. In fact, they want to free everyone who has to wear a collar,” explained Lucifer.

Jack tilted his head in a way that reminded Lucifer of a certain seraph.

“They want to free all monsters?” He asked, confused and Lucifer nodded. 

“But to do that, they have to go to the place that makes the collars. They’re going to break in and deactivate everyone’s collars from their computers.”

Jack stared at his lap, a puzzled frown creasing his brows. “But… what if they get caught?”

Lucifer gazed at his son with a sad smile and Jack’s wings drooped comically.

“Make them stay!” He said suddenly. “Don’t let them go. They should stay here with us. With their flock.” Tears glazed his eyes.

“This is something they want to do,” murmured Lucifer, brushing Jack’s tears away gently. “They’re trying to make the world a better place. For us.”

“But it’s not worth losing them!” Jack whimpered. “They have to stay!”

Lucifer offered him a weak smile and returned to petting a small wing. “They’re doing this to keep us safe, Jack.”

 _“They can’t go!”_ Jack yelled angrily, eyes glowing a bright yellow and wings flared furiously and suddenly, all the windows in the living room shattered into a billion fragments, scattering over the carpet like snow.

Lucifer startled and tugged Jack into his chest protectively, curling over him as soon as he heard the almighty crash. The nephilim whimpered fearfully, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching his father’s shirt until the sounds ceased.

Slowly, Lucifer uncurled from Jack, staring at the mess of glass in astonishment.

“…Did I do that?” Jack whispered as Lucifer’s gaze darted from window to window, taking in the damage. Even the glass in the front door had been destroyed.

Lucifer clicked his fingers and the glass remoulded itself back into the window frames just as Michael came speeding around the corner with his wings flared wide and defensive, Raphael in tow.

“What happened?” Demanded Michael, eyes wide and worried. “Are you alright? What was that crash?”

Lucifer shook his head and cast his gaze to his son, whom was frowning at his own hands in confusion.

“…Looks like your powers are getting stronger,” Lucifer finally said, quiet and careful so as not to startle the boy.

Jack frowned and glanced up at his father, his upset returning to his gaze.

“Don’t let them go,” he whispered. “They can’t leave. They belong here, with us. We’re supposed to take care of each other.”

Lucifer’s lips drew downwards and he reached out to stroke his son’s wing only for Jack to pull away from him and stand up with his arms crossed. Lucifer’s hand hovered in mid-air for a moment before it fell uselessly in his lap, fingers itching to touch something, to be comforted by the silkiness of feathers.

“I can’t make them do anything,” said Lucifer sternly. “The Winchesters have decided to do this and I can’t stop them.”

Jack’s feathers puffed up angrily as he narrowed his eyes. “Then we have to go with them.”

Michael and Raphael remained silent as Lucifer sighed. “We can’t do that. We have to remain here. If we got caught snooping around, we would be sentenced to death. You know that. At least the Winchesters have a chance at being released from prison if they’re caught.”

Jack huffed. “What use is a flock if we don’t look out for one another? We’re meant to protect them and instead, we’re leaving them to fend for themselves. Don’t you care for your own family?”

“That’s enough, Jack,” said Lucifer firmly. “Don’t make this difficult. We all care for the Winchesters but they want to keep us safe, which means we have to stay here, understand? Now enough of this childishness.”

This only seemed to offend Jack more. “I’m not being childish!” He snapped. “I just love them more than you do and I want to keep them safe! Not all of us hate humans like you!”

Lucifer stood then, wings stretching wide either side of him to show Jack he’d gone too far. It was an intimidating sight and Jack flinched a little when his father’s eyes glowed bronze for a brief moment in reprimand.

“If you can’t behave like an adult, I will treat you like a child,” snapped Lucifer. He clicked his fingers and Jack felt a heavy weight settle over his body, invisible and draining. His grace dimmed and he felt his powers weaken as his father’s magic worked to prevent him from using his own abilities. It was temporary and Lucifer could lift his magic at any time. The technique was often used on naughty angelic children who didn’t listen to their parents and was akin to human parents taking away children’s toys when they were being contradictory.

Jack bristled and whirled on his heel, refusing to let his father see the tears colleting on his lashes. His father had never prohibited him from using his powers before and combined with the idea of losing Sam and Dean, Jack wanted to curl up under a blanket and cry. 

So, he flicked his wings at his father in one last show of defiance and marched upstairs in silence, locking himself in the spare bedroom.

When Lucifer heard the first quiet sob from the spare room, he winced and slumped onto the couch, letting his head fall into his hands.

His brothers warily took the seats either side of him and began petting his wings soothingly.

“He has to learn,” offered Raphael softly. “He can’t have everything his way.”

“…Maybe I was too harsh on him,” sighed Lucifer wearily. Afterall, Jack just wanted what was best for the Winchesters…

“He needs to learn that the world isn’t safe, nor fair,” murmured Michael. “He needs to respect your rules. Sometimes, it’s kinder to be harsh.”

“I’ve never blanketed his powers before,” Lucifer mumbled. “But I’ve never seen him so angry. He smashed all the windows without blinking.”

Both Michael and Raphael raised their eyebrows in surprise. That was one powerful trick, especially considering how he had barely been able to lift a pencil with his mind yesterday.

“Maybe it’s time we give him lessons on how to control them,” mused Michael. “He has to learn at some point.”

Lucifer nodded slowly. He was still pretty shocked how Jack’s anger had suddenly surged like that. Lucifer himself had never been particularly calm or patient, but still… Jack wasn’t even a full archangel.

“I’ll let him cool down and then I’ll speak to him later tonight,” sighed Lucifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of Jack in this chapter because he has an important part in the next one ;)


	20. Chapter 20

“I’m not convinced this is a good idea,” whispered Castiel once more as Dean mouthed wet kisses over his neck. Dean sighed and pulled away, frowning at his angel.

“We talked about this, Cas…”

The seraph’s fingers curled in the hem of Dean’s shirt as he leaned their foreheads together.

“…I’m afraid to lose you,” Castiel whispered after a moment. “I feel like I've only just got you.”

Dean’s gaze softened and he slipped his hands around the angel’s waist. “I’m not exactly planning on leaving,” he murmured, brushing their lips together.

“Not everything goes as we plan, Dean.”

Dean pulled the angel’s body closer, until they were pressed into one another and he was able to slide his hands around Castiel’s lower back.

“Then let’s make the most of now,” Dean whispered, stealing a light kiss from his angel, which soon grew into something much deeper when Castiel’s hand tangled in the hunter’s hair and he opened his mouth to allow the human access.

Dean licked his way inside the angel’s mouth, exploring and enjoying the familiar taste of rich earthiness and coffee beans and Castiel. He wanted to be closer to his seraph, to feel the heat of his skin and hear his wrecked groans as Dean took him apart piece by piece. He wanted Castiel’s hands on him, roaming, touching, claiming and he wanted the angel’s wings around them both, hiding them from the rest of the world. Right now, Castiel was the only person in this world that mattered to Dean.

Dean slowly herded Castiel towards the bed, lips never leaving one another until they flopped onto the mattress together. It took them a while to rearrange themselves fully on the bed because they found each other’s mouths far too interesting, but eventually, Dean found himself pinned beneath Castiel’s strong body, just like the first time they’d done this.

Unlike the first time however, they wasted no time in ridding one another of clothing. They wanted to feel each other’s skin burning against their own and once they had accomplished their mission, Castiel fanned his wings wide over Dean’s body in a display of possessiveness and threat to any other angels had they been watching. Dean thought it was ten kinds of hot.

Castiel quickly latched onto Dean’s neck, sucking marks into it as he splayed his hands over Dean’s chest, smoothing them over his shoulders and arms before retracing his path and sliding back down his chest to his stomach, only to repeat the process over again. His touch was firm and full of intent and Dean didn’t hesitate to return it. 

He spread his fingers over Castiel’s back, just below his wing bases, and roamed over the angel’s spine and down to his hips, then raked his nails over Castiel’s sides only to surge back down again and grab two handfuls of Castiel’s bare ass.

Castiel’s wings gave away his arousal as they shuddered slightly and lips attached themselves to Dean’s collar bone, sucking and nipping until Dean had no choice but to let his head fall backwards against the pillow with a soft groan of approval. Castiel immediately ran his tongue over the column of his throat and Dean released one fleshy cheek to wrap a hand around a wing base and tug.

Castiel growled quietly, the sound causing all of Dean’s blood to rush southwards, and he crushed their lips together messily, tongues tangling.

“Mine,” rumbled Castiel as he suddenly grabbed Dean’s erection and the hunter made a soft, strangled sound as his hips jerked upwards. He palmed Castiel’s ass a little harder and smirked when the angel pressed into his hand.

For an angel who’d never had sex before two weeks ago and a human who hadn’t realised he was bisexual until very recently, they weren’t doing too badly.

“I think I have a kink for you marking your territory,” whispered Dean, nipping at Castiel’s bottom lip. The angel’s feathers puffed out in pride and he ground his own erection into Dean’s, slow and hard and bursting with delicious friction that had Dean tugging once more at his wing.

“Do that again,” Dean demanded, claiming the angel’s mouth. If this had any possibility of being his last night with Castiel, he wasn’t going to hold back. Any reservations he might still have held about being with another man were through the window tonight. He would have all of Castiel and he was going to enjoy giving himself to the angel in return.

Don’t get him wrong, he had no intention of getting caught hacking the collar update software, but if he did, he wanted his last night with Castiel to be one they’d both remember.

Castiel released his length and ground against Dean again, trapping them both between their bodies. Dean closed his eyes as he focused on Castiel’s rutting, adoring the heat of the angel’s skin flush with his.

Dean nuzzled the stubble on Castiel’s cheek before nipping his jaw playfully and Castiel nipped his lip in reprimand. The hunter kneaded his fingers into the thick base of Castiel’s wing and the angel exhaled heavily before claiming his lover’s mouth roughly.

Hands slid over skin, possessive and claiming as if they could mark one another by touch alone and soon, Dean’s fingers wandered into shiny black feathers, seeking out an oil gland. 

Castiel whimpered when Dean slipped a finger into his left gland without warning. He surged against Dean, their erections sliding together jerkily and both men moaned in approval. Dean quickly tugged Castiel down until the angel was completely draped over him, their bodies flush even as they continued to move against one another, and Castiel buried his face in Dean’s neck, inhaling his scent and focusing on the sensations of being touched and wanted and cared for. 

Dean wrapped his free arm securely around Castiel’s back as the angel snaked both arms around him and he dipped a second finger into Castiel’s oil gland, smiling when the angel shuddered against him, nuzzling his neck in encouragement.

“You like that?” Dean teased as he scissored his fingers gently inside the angel’s gland, prompting a needy whine from Castiel’s lips.

Instead of replying, Castiel rolled off Dean and tucked himself into the hunter’s side. He shakily collected some oil from the opposite wing and began smearing it over Dean’s chest. It smelled like forests and ground coffee.

Dean watched hungrily as Castiel marked him, slowly smoothing his oil into Dean’s stomach as well.

“You haven’t got wings,” Castiel growled beside his ear, “so I’ll have to mark more interesting places.”

Dean inhaled sharply when the angel collected more oil in his palm, then abruptly curled his fist around Dean’s stiff length. He pumped Dean a few times under the pretence of rubbing oil into him but his hand soon dropped lower to fondle the hunter’s testicles.

Dean couldn’t help but press their mouths together again as they teased one another. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this utterly besotted with someone. Castiel was the only person he could imagine trusting with all of himself. He was the only lover Dean had ever felt a real connection to; a bond so profound that he could imagine spending the rest of his life with the angel. He _wanted_ to spend the rest of his life with Castiel.

Suddenly, Dean’s eyes widened as a cool finger circled his entrance. He’d been so distracted by his thoughts, he hadn’t realised where Castiel’s oil-slicked fingers had wandered to. He shuddered at the idea of the angel marking him there; showing the world just whom Dean belonged to.

A finger pressed inside him and he quickly relaxed around it. Castiel may never have been inside him properly, but that wasn’t to say the angel had never teased him.

As much as he loved having the angel beneath him, Dean buried in his tight heat, the hunter was hoping to switch things up tonight.

After all, it might be their last night together.

A second digit pushed inside him and he closed his eyes and arched slightly, pressing into Castiel’s hand in hopes of convincing the angel to move a little quicker. When it was apparent Castiel was quite happy to merely finger him, Dean pulled out of the angel’s gland and dragged his lover on top of him once more.

“Please, Cas,” Dean whispered, brushing his own oil-slicked fingers over Castiel’s shaft and the angel raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure, Dean?” The seraph murmured, stealing a kiss merely because he could.

Dean nodded. “Want you,” he mumbled, groaning when Castiel pressed three digits inside him, stretching and catching his prostrate on the second thrust.

Castiel’s gaze glowed a bright blue for a moment before dimming again and Dean smirked when the angel’s free hand collected some more oil and began smearing it over his collar bones and neck.

“You trying to tell me something?” Purred Dean as he tilted his head to suck one of Castiel’s fingers into his mouth, cleaning it of oil. Castiel watched with lust-blown pupils and before Dean knew what was happening, the angel was half-way inside him, oil easing his entrance, fingers clenched around his hips and mouth attacking Dean’s as his wings fanned wide above them both once more.

Dean arched at the pleasurable burn and Castiel paused for a moment, waiting for the hunter to settle. Once he did, Castiel pushed all the way in and Dean made a choked sound, hands clutching at the seraph’s back. 

The hunter had a feeling Castiel was masking the pain with his magic, ensuring Dean could only experience the pleasure and Dean knew instantly that he was lost on the seraph. No one could compare to this gentle, thoughtful man.

Castiel’s thrusts started slow, but he soon picked up the pace and Dean hooked his legs around his lover’s hips, relishing the feeling of Castiel’s body sliding against his, oil transferring from Dean’s skin to the angel’s. All Dean could smell was Castiel and all he could hear was the angel’s quiet panting and the rustle of feathers. He let one hand tangle in the seraph’s hair and Castiel made a soft sound of approval and pressed his face into the hunter’s neck again as he wrapped them both in his wings.

Something familiar poked at Dean’s soul desperately and without hesitating, the hunter opened up, melting into Castiel’s grace the moment it embraced his soul. Grace and soul curled around one another, settling as close as possible and suddenly, Dean could feel the angel’s pleasure and need.

Castiel shifted slightly and Dean cried out when the angel began hitting his prostate with every thrust, moving faster and harder as the seconds passed. 

“Cas,” Dean begged, unsure of what he was asking for, but Castiel seemed to understand because he immediately claimed Dean’s lips and slid their tongues together languidly, kissing Dean as though he needed it to survive.

It wasn’t long before Dean came, moaning into Castiel’s mouth unashamedly. Castiel followed shortly after and Dean had never been so grateful for angel magic when he felt Castiel’s warm load fill him up. He didn’t think he’d ever want to buy a condom again.

The angel melted into him like butter and Dean smiled and closed his eyes as Castiel began nuzzling his neck and kissing his jaw affectionately, refusing to move. Dean held him close, petting his hair tenderly and smiling when Castiel subtly pulled out of him and cleaned them both up with a click of his fingers. The bed sheets were also suspiciously fresh-looking, however Dean smirked when he realised the angel hadn’t removed the scent of his oil from his body.

Dean gathered the angel into his arms, chuckling quietly when two fluffy wings slipped around him more securely.

Was it too early to admit he was in love with this angel?

 _‘No,’_ he heard Castiel whisper into his mind and he flushed pink when he realised his soul was still wrapped around Castiel’s grace.

The angel smirked and closed his eyes, rolling off Dean and tucking his head into his hunter’s neck.

Dean watched the angel for a moment before shaking his head fondly and curling around his angel. He wasn’t convinced either of them would sleep well tonight but it didn’t matter as long as Castiel was in his arms.

 

* * *

 

“Jack?” Lucifer tried softly. “Jack, the Winchesters are leaving.” No reply.

There had been no reply last night either and Lucifer had fought the urge to break the door down and comfort his son when he’d heard the nephilim’s muted sobs, but Jack clearly needed space and Lucifer needed to respect that. Now, the other side of the door was eerily silent and Lucifer didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. He’d thought his son would at least mutter a ‘goodbye’ to the Winchesters. 

With a soft sigh, Lucifer turned towards the stairs. He’d lifted his restriction magic around midnight because Jack’s cries had been too much for him to bear. He wasn’t sure which was worse; the heart-wrenching sobs or the silence.

Dean and Sam looked strained as they watched him traipse down the stairs. He shook his head sadly and both Winchesters slumped. Sam drew him into a tight hug and Dean patted his back a little awkwardly, before Lucifer rolled his eyes and crushed the eldest Winchester into his chest. If this was possibly the last time he was going to see them, he wasn’t having a half-assed hug.

He watched as the Winchesters said goodbye to his brothers, Gabriel and Castiel looking as though they were about to break down any second, or at the very least, demand the Winchesters take them with them. They stayed strong though even as their lovers pulled away and shrugged their coats on.

“We’ll see you soon,” Dean promised quietly and Castiel managed a weak smile as he nodded.

“Be careful,” he whispered.

Lucifer choked up a little when Gabriel suddenly clicked his fingers and a small box of cookies appeared in his hand.

“I uh… couldn’t sleep last night and decided to make you these. Y’know… for the road,” Gabriel mumbled as he held the box out to the Winchesters. “…Thought they might cheer you up a little.”

“Thanks,” managed Sam as he took the box. His expression was pained.

“Hey, we’re coming back,” said Dean, trying to be reassuring. “It’s not like you’ll never see us again.”

The angels couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“Just… stay safe,” murmured Michael. “We’ll… we’ll miss you.”

Dean opened his mouth, probably to retort with some sarcastic line to mask his own emotions, but he snapped it shut again quickly and offered a mumbled “Yeah.”

Both brothers glanced around the living room before slowly turning towards the door and disappearing out of it.

Lucifer pretended not to notice Gabriel swiping at a stray tear.

Wordlessly, the five angels settled on the airbed they hadn’t bothered to put away earlier. They snuggled close, wrapped their wings around each another and let their graces seek one another out.

 

* * *

 

It took just under nine hours to get to Denver, Colorado, specifically Chainmail HQ. Dean despised the drive not only because he was missing the angels, but because he was driving what must have been the ugliest car in the history of ever; the Fiat Multipla. 

He and Sam had agreed that driving the Impala into Denver would have been suspicious; it wasn’t exactly a car that went unnoticed. Sam’s Prius had been mentioned, but the idea of being able to trace the car back to them via CCTV imaging was not something they wanted to risk. An old Multipla from Bobby’s scrapyard however, that fit their task quite nicely, especially with the fake plates they’d hooked it up with.

Charlie seemed to share Dean’s sentiment about the grotesque car if the faces she’d been pulling in the back were anything to go by. Any car with an added roof rack should have been made illegal to drive in Dean’s opinion.

Five hours into the drive, Sam’s phone blasted some obtuse pop song that had Dean scrunching his nose up in distaste.

Sam raised an eyebrow as Gabriel’s name flashed across the screen and a smile tugged at his lips. He accepted the call and was just about to tease the archangel over how he couldn’t go half a day without seeing Sam, when Lucifer’s frantic yelling made his blood run cold.

_“Jack’s gone!”_

“Lucifer, calm down,” Sam heard Gabriel say soothingly, but Lucifer was far too worked up to listen.

“My son is missing!” He snarled. “Don’t tell me to calm down!”

There were some hissed curses and an argument erupted before the phone changed hands and Castiel’s deep voice rumbled through.

“Jack locked the spare room and when Lucifer forced his way into it around an hour ago, he found the room empty and the window open. We scoured the house and searched the surrounding streets, but we can’t locate him.”

Sam scrubbed a hand down his face. “He ran away? But where could he have- ” He cut himself off sharply. “Dean, pull over.”

Dean shot him a confused expression, but Sam glared at him. “Pull over.” He barely spared the phone a glance. “Call you back in a sec, Cas.” He ended the call.

“I’m on a highway!” Protested Dean.

“Take the next exit.”

Five minutes later, Dean had stopped the car on a single-lane road and Sam climbed out of the passenger seat and marched towards the back of the car.

The boot flung open and Sam pursed his lips at the sight of Jack staring up at him guiltily, crouched over in a corner amongst his and Dean’s bags. Sam wished Charlie had stuffed her own bags in with theirs that morning, instead of piling it all into the backseat.

“Get out,” huffed Sam and Jack did as ordered, shuffling into the backseat when Sam held the door open for him.

Dean and Charlie stared at the nephilim with wide eyes.

“Shit,” cursed Dean as he clenched his fists.

Jack stared back at Sam defiantly. “I want to help.”

“What is it about ‘No’ don’t you understand?” Hissed Dean suddenly, making Jack flinch and lower his gaze.

“…Flock takes care of each other,” whispered Jack and the fight drained from Dean. He sighed and closed his eyes.

“Jack… you can’t just run away like that. It isn’t safe. Your dad is on the verge of a breakdown.”

Jack at least had the decency to look ashamed. “We had a fight last night,” he admitted. “I said we should come with you and Father said no.”

“You should have listened to him,” frowned Sam. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay with us.”

Jack dropped his gaze. “If you just give me a chance to prove I can help you- ”

“No. As soon as we get to the motel, we’re dropping you off and you’re not gonna move until we come back, capisce?” Growled Dean.

Jack scowled. “You can’t go in there on your own. What if you get hurt? What if you get caught? I can- ”

“You can sit quietly in the motel until we get back,” finished Dean sternly.

Jack pursed his lips as Dean gunned the engine. He grabbed Sam’s discarded phone and tossed it to the nephilim.

“You can also call your father and explain to him where you are and what you were thinking.”

Jack winced as he unlocked Sam’s phone.

 

* * *

 

Early morning light filtered through the curtains of the seedy motel room and the Winchesters and Charlie sprung into action. They showered and dressed before the clock even hit seven and Dean made it clear to Jack he was to wait in the motel until their return. Jack tried to protest but Dean ignored his arguments and the trio piled into the ugly Fiat and began the hour-long journey that would take them to Chainmail HQ.

The ride was tense and silent and not even the radio could soothe their nerves. 

Ten minutes into the journey, there was a bang on the roof and Dean nearly swerved the car off the road in shock. He cursed and calmed his breathing again, reasoning it was most likely a large bird that had caused the noise.

When they spotted Chainmail HQ looming over the city in the form of a jet-black skyscraper, they pulled into a side street and switched the engine off. 

“First we need to find the delivery entrance,” instructed Dean as he climbed out of the car and into the mid-morning light, Sam and Charlie following suit. 

They all froze in horror at the sight of a windswept Jack perched on the roof of the car. His cheeks were rosy and his hair a tangled mess. He unclenched his fingers from the roof rack and hopped off the top of the car, tilting his chin up defiantly at the Winchesters and Charlie.

For a long moment, nobody spoke. Then Dean opened the door to the backseat. 

“Get in,” he growled at Jack, but Jack merely crossed his arms and stood his ground.

“I’m coming with you,” he huffed.

“No. I’m locking you in the car,” snapped Dean. “Now get in!”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “No,” he said simply.

“Get in the car, you little brat!” Snarled Dean, gesturing heatedly to the car’s interior.

Jack didn’t even flinch.

“Make me,” he challenged, tilting his chin up even higher to reveal his deactivated collar. One tug and the collar’s ends would click together, locking and activating it.

Dean’s mouth drew into a thin line as Sam sighed.

“You know we’d never do that,” Sam murmured.

Jack’s wings sagged slightly in relief.

“Flock means being there for each other through the good and the bad. You’re my flock,” Jack said softly.

Dean dropped his gaze briefly before setting his jaw again and eying Jack sternly.

“You do exactly as we say,” he growled lowly. “If we say ‘jump’, you jump. If we say ‘run’, you run. If we say ‘leave us’, you hightail it out of there as quick as you can. You don’t look back, you don’t argue, you just run, okay?”

Jack opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it and nodded reluctantly.

“Alright, let’s go,” grumbled Dean as Sam gaped at his brother.

“Dean- ”

“Maybe he can help us,” huffed Dean, glaring his brother into silence. Then he turned to Jack. 

“Take that collar off and hide your wings. You’re human, got it?”

Jack nodded eagerly, glancing around as he removed his collar and forced his wings out of the human plane of perception. He threw the collar into the car, which Dean quickly locked.

Dean glanced him up and down before gesturing towards the main road. “Can we get this show moving?”

Sam looked like he wanted to argue but ultimately decided against it as he followed his brother out of the narrow street, Charlie and Jack trotting behind them.

They weaved through streets and around shops, satisfied that the car was out of view of Chainmail headquarters. They stalked towards the enormous skyscraper, Charlie sneering in disgust at the shiny blue ‘Chainmail’ name and collar logo levitating above the iron gates that lead to the main entrance. Whilst it was open to the public during normal working hours, there would be high security involved and zero chance of breaking into the basement levels, where the generators and controls were housed.

Charlie tapped Dean on the shoulder and pointed towards a side entrance where a multitude of vans and lorries were waiting to be admitted entrance or exit through a tall pair of reinforced steel gates. 

Dean snorted. “Charlie, pick a truck.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry,” mumbled Jack despondently. 

“I’ve already said don’t worry about it,” muttered Dean as he cut out his photo and held it out for his brother to overlay onto the driver’s ID. He glanced down at his too-small uniform and frowned. Why did the uniforms always fit the heroes in movies? It encouraged a false sense of hope and expectation.

Why did Chainmail make their truckers wear uniforms anyway? Seemed a bit pretentious in Dean’s opinion.

“I should have been able to make him sleep,” scowled Jack as he stared at the unconscious driver. The plan had been for Jack to knock him out with two fingers to the forehead, but when that hadn’t worked, Dean had smashed the butt of his gun into the man’s head instead and both Winchesters had dragged him into the back of the lorry as quickly as possible as they stripped him of his uniform and ID. Charlie was currently in the driver’s seat, slowly inching the vehicle towards the delivery entrance, where a queue of goods vehicles had formed.

A purple bruise was beginning to form on the driver’s temple.

“He’s asleep,” Dean grunted.

Jack slumped slightly as Sam handed the improved ID to his brother.

“I’m half angel. I should be able to control my powers,” huffed Jack. “I should be able to use my magic however I want like my father does.”

“You’re young,” shrugged Sam. “You’ll learn. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Focus on the present.”

Dean looked over his new ID with a vaguely impressed expression. At a glance, the ID looked legitimate. Hopefully the security guard wouldn’t ask for anything more than that.

“Alright, you guys lay low back here whilst I drive us in. I’ll let you out when an opportunity presents itself,” he said. Sam and Jack nodded in understanding and Dean hopped out of the lorry and made his way to the front, herding Charlie out so she could join Sam and Jack.

After a few minutes, they were the next truck to be admitted entrance into Chainmail HQ and the stern-looking security guard asked Dean for his ID, a huge German shepherd sniffing at the truck curiously as his handler kept a tight hold on his lead.

Dean flashed his ID at the guard and breathed out a sigh of relief when the gates opened in front of him.

He settled into his seat and swallowed thickly as he rolled into Chainmail property.

 

* * *

 

“When he gets home I’m going to kill him,” grumbled Lucifer but his twitching wings betrayed his fear. 

Michael placed a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “The Winchesters will take care of him,” he said softly. 

Lucifer sagged. “What if they get caught and he’s left on his own in some disgusting motel room? What if he can’t get home? What if… what if I never see him again?”

Michael gathered his younger brother into his arms. “They’ll bring him home,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Lucifer sighed quietly and nodded, relaxing into his brother’s embrace.

It had been a long day without the Winchesters and Jack yesterday and today was shaping up to be an even longer one for the angels. It wasn’t even noon. 

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock at the door.

The angels glanced at one another in confusion. The Winchesters didn’t get many visitors and the few people who did visit usually rang the house first to ensure they wouldn’t be unwelcome.

Castiel edged towards the window and peeked outside. There was a sleek black BMW parked outside the house, the windows tinted black, shielding the interior of the car from view.

Castiel frowned and pressed his face against the window to get a brief view of the two men standing at the door, both dressed in black suits and wearing the sort of sunglasses Dean regularly complained about ‘no-talent douchebags’ wearing. 

The seraph stiffened and recoiled from the window. The men were wearing earpieces. Castiel had watched enough of Dean’s favourite movies involving the FBI to have an idea what they looked like. To be honest, he’d always silently scoffed at their depiction on TV, but now two replicas were standing outside his door, he felt rather intimidated. 

“Cassie? What’s wrong?” Asked Gabriel.

Castiel winced at another sharp knock. 

“I think it’s the FBI,” he whispered.

His brothers straightened.

“Why would they be here?” Asked Raphael nervously. “Do you think they’ve come to take us back to the breeding facility?”

The other angels quickly paled, wings flicking nervously.

After a few moments, Gabriel shook his head. “No. They can’t be. Just continue with our respective disguises and we’ll be fine,” he murmured.

The knocking grew impatient.

“We know you’re in there. Open up,” demanded one of the men loudly.

The angels glanced at each other worriedly before Castiel made his way towards the front door, grabbing his collar on the way and locking it into place without thinking.

He opened the door and plastered on a polite smile. “Gentlemen. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The man on the left was olive-skinned. He was tall with dark, slicked-back hair and designer stubble. 

“Are your masters home?” He asked, forgoing all greetings.

Castiel clamped his mouth shut as he stared between the man and his partner; equally tall with blonde hair and a clean-shaven jaw.

He caught movement in the lounge from the corner of his eye.

“May I ask why that information is pertinent to you?” Castiel said blandly.

“FBI,” said the man on the left, flashing his badge as his partner did the same. “We need to speak with your owners.”

Castiel’s lips drew into a thin line. “For what purpose?”

“None of your concern, Angel. Step aside and call your masters.”

Castiel bristled. This was his home; his safe space. He didn’t care for two strangers barging in and threatening him and his flock.

He held his chin a little higher in defiance. “My humans are my concern,” he said tersely. “I protect my family and I find your lack of explanation suspicious, Agent.”

The agents stiffened and Castiel’s lips twitched as a slither of satisfaction curled inside his gut. The agents glanced at one another before removing their glasses and narrowing their eyes at Castiel.

“Are we going to have a problem, Angel?” Asked the blonde man.

“Castiel,” he said pointedly. “My name is Castiel. And we may if you continue to evade my questions. What is your purpose here?”

The blonde man opened his jacket slightly, giving Castiel a glimpse of his pistol. He made to step into the house, but the seraph flared his wings threateningly. He startled when a small blast of electricity pulsed through his collar.

Both agents smirked and Castiel realised his mistake far too late. There was no way he’d be able to deactivate his collar with the agents so close.

He jumped when a familiar hand landed on his shoulder, a body coming up behind him.

“Woah, down boy,” chuckled Sam, making Castiel’s eyes widen. “Let’s invite the gentlemen in and offer them something to drink. Is coffee okay?” He asked, glancing at the agents whilst simultaneously squeezing Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel’s gaze flicked to the living room, where Michael, Lucifer and Raphael were facing him, collars not-quite locked around their necks. One of them must have retrieved the deactivator from Dean’s room whilst Castiel was talking to the agents.

Castiel glanced to Sam and nodded tightly before retreating into the kitchen to make coffee. He hoped Gabriel knew Sam well enough to pull this trick off.

He returned to the living room a few minutes later to find the agents staring at Gabriel, Lucifer beside him, wings hidden as he lived up to his fairy disguise. Raphael had also hidden his wings in his attempt to pull off a witch impersonation and he was sitting on the floor beside Michael, who looked something akin to a seraph.

Castiel offered the agents a drink before giving the remaining ones to his brothers and the fake Sam.

He sat beside Gabriel obediently and the agents finally spoke.

“Sam Winchester, I presume?” Asked the dark-haired man. Gabriel nodded.

“Is your brother home?” Asked the other agent.

“He’s on a grocery run with his trickster,” replied Gabriel. “Can I ask what all this is about?”

The agents glanced at one another for a brief second before the blonde man set his briefcase down on the coffee table and unlocked it. He removed a brown envelope from within it and placed it in his lap.

“Recently, there has been some concern about the security of state breeding facilities. Texas has reported four intruders and I’m sure you’ve seen the news about the mass gathering of creatures in Cottonwood Falls. Somehow, I doubt I need to explain that the Kansas breeding facility had a break-in,” said the black-haired agent. 

Gabriel tilted his head. “I’m not entirely certain what it is you’re implying by that.”

The agents offered him a thin-lipped smile.

“We’ve also had a call from Springfield PD, reporting a missing creature,” the blonde man said.

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow in mild interest. “Oh? What does that have to do with me? It’s a little out of my jurisdiction, wouldn’t you say?”

The dark-haired agent chuckled humourlessly. “We’re not asking you to catch this creature. In fact, our presence has very little to do with your career, which your boss, Victor Henricksen, told us you’re very adept at.”

Gabriel leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. “Must be serious if you guys got Vic involved.”

The agents didn’t respond. Instead, the blonde man produced a monochrome picture of the Impala from inside the brown envelope.

“This picture was taken by CCTV outside Sunset Laboratories, Wichita a few weeks ago. Our records indicate that this is your license plate. Would you agree?”

Gabriel’s eyebrows pinched together as he glanced at the picture. 

“I suppose,” he said slowly, dread already beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach. “What of it?”

The blonde agent clasped his hands in his lap. “This laboratory also reported a break in and release of its test creatures. CCTV footage from that evening shows two cars park outside the building around midnight, then leave an hour later. Granted, the footage isn’t of great quality and the filming isn’t continuous, but a yellow VW bug and a black Chevrolet Impala are very clearly visible in the picture, even if their drivers aren’t.”

Gabriel nodded minutely. “And I’m assuming that makes me and my brother your prime suspects in all these ‘break-ins’? A couple of grainy photos of me using a parking lot that just so happens to be close to a lab? There were a few bars in that area too, in case they slipped your notice. I don’t mind walking a little if it means I get free parking.”

The agents blinked at him and once again didn’t reply.

“Some of these creatures have fortunately been located and restrained,” said the dark-haired man, ignoring Gabriel's response entirely. “A few lab creatures are still missing and many breeding monsters from the Kansas facility are certainly lost to us. However, throughout these break-ins and reports, we have noticed a pattern.”

“Do tell,” snorted Gabriel, looking irritated. The agents sat a little straighter.

“Mr. Winchester, you are aware of the law regarding archangels, are you not?” The black-haired agent asked.

Gabriel frowned and nodded slowly, hoping the humans hadn’t noticed the way Raphael, Lucifer and Michael had all flinched.

“They’re to be reported to the government,” Gabriel said quietly.

The agents nodded and the blonde one lay out two photos on the coffee table; one a full-body profile of Raphael, seemingly unconscious and the other of Lucifer in his Texas cell, battered and beaten and with his limbs chained.

“Do you recognise either of these creatures?” Asked the blonde agent with a tight smile, gaze drifting towards Raphael and Lucifer in turn, and Lucifer stiffened, blood draining from his face as Raphael frowned in confusion, wondering what his brother was looking at.

Gabriel’s eyes widened and he slowly raised his gaze to meet the sharp smirks of the agents.

“Lesson number one, Mr. Winchester,” began the blonde agent. “Sloppy thieves are caught quickly.”

“Next time, you might want to get your pets to change their faces as well as their wings,” chuckled the dark-haired agent.

Gabriel licked his lips and felt his blood turn to ice.

 

* * *

 

Dean slid out of the truck and nodded at the Chainmail staff members who glanced over at him. Their team leader checked his clip board, matching the vehicle’s registration plate to the goods it was hauling and as he was preoccupied with instructing his men where to place the goods and how to store them, Dean backed towards the back of the lorry and opened it subtly, gesturing with a finger for Sam, Charlie and Jack to follow him around the opposite side of the vehicle, where they wouldn’t be caught.

They disappeared from the workmen’s view just as they returned their gaze to the back of the truck. They frowned at Dean’s absence, muttered something derogatory about drivers and then began their task of unloading the goods Sam, Charlie and Jack had been hiding between moments ago.

Meanwhile, Dean led the group towards a warehouse where they could see electronics and chains and other monster accessories were being stored. Some looked to be replacement components, like collar sensors and remote buttons, others were ready to be sold, like muzzles and leads.

A few workmen glanced at the group oddly, so they straightened and made themselves look as though they were supposed to be there and the workmen didn’t care enough to check who they were.

They spotted a door inside the warehouse and watched a Health and Safety officer scan his card against the reader and step through the door, his back to the group. Before the door could shut, Sam caught it and they slipped into a long corridor that they hoped would lead them to Chainmail’s distinctive skyscraper. 

They remained put until the Health and Safety officer vanished through a door a little further up the corridor, then began a brisk walk through the long room. At the end of the corridor, they came to a door which needed a pass to access it and Charlie silently removed a handheld device from her bag, placed it over the card-reader and began scrolling through security protocols. 

A few minutes later, the reader flashed green and Charlie pushed the door open carefully.

They entered an empty hallway, containing only a service lift and a set of concrete stairs. There were also three doors leading into the room.

A glance at the elevator revealed a list of floors displayed to the left of the doors. Dean grinned as he read the words **‘Floor -3: Generators and Programming Suite. Private Access.’**

This was almost too easy.

Dean was about to press the button to call the lift when Sam grabbed his arm and gestured to the stairs instead. 

“You don’t know who’s in the elevator,” he murmured. 

Dean scowled unhappily but nodded. If they came across anyone who questioned their destination, they wouldn’t be able to explain themselves.

They trotted down the stairs until they reached their target floor. They were greeted by another locked door with a card scanner. Once again, Charlie whipped out her clever device and began tapping away on it.

The door slid open and the group slipped inside, looking around warily in case anyone had spotted their arrival. When the hallway appeared empty, they plodded through it, taking notice of how dull and grey everything down here was. There were a few doors, presumably leading to storage cupboards or access points for the maintenance crew to fix any blips in the electricity supplying the building. There was also a room that contained two computers. Above its door read **‘Building Status and Info Point’**. Inside was a red telephone for technicians and the maintenance crew to call head office and explain to them any faults in power, internet connection, water supply and many other vital systems.

That wasn’t the room they needed, but they made a note of it anyway.

They explored the corridor a little further and eventually came to another heavy door with the words **‘Programming Suite’** engraved above it. Another card reader greeted them and Charlie snorted and easily gained access.

The room was empty and the group huddled around the first computer they came to. Charlie took a few minutes in logging on as someone called _Lisa Braeden,_ but soon after the desktop loaded, Charlie pulled up the programme that allowed her access to the collar update system. She grabbed a USB out of her pocket and jammed it into the computer, before clicking on various icons and accepting a number of warning boxes. A password request popped up and Charlie easily bypassed it with a smirk and clicked a few more times until an ‘Uploading’ message popped onto the screen, a little green progress bar below it.

Charlie leaned back in her seat smugly. “In a couple of minutes, Chainmail is going to have a serious system shutdown. Be prepared to start running, guys.” 

A minute passed and the upload was seventy-two percent complete. On the left-hand side of the screen, Charlie watched the collar coding system begin to insert new lines of text.

Suddenly, the door behind them beeped and swung open and the group watched in horror as six staff members shuffled into the room, complaining about the latest update they were to code.

When the staff members noticed the intruders, there was a moment of silence where no one reacted, then the staff began shouting angrily, one man sprinting off in search of a way to alert security whilst the others tried to corner Charlie, Jack and the Winchesters.

Dean and Sam whipped their guns out of their jackets and aimed them at the staff threateningly, making them back off. A few seconds later, an alarm blared and the whole floor was bathed in a red glow as warning lights flashed. 

Dean cursed and waggled his gun at the staff intimidatingly, gaze flicking to the computer. The progress bar was stuck at eighty-seven percent. 

Whilst he was distracted, a man leapt forwards and tried to wrestle the weapon from his grip, but Dean swung his fist and the man jerked backwards, holding his hands up placatingly.

Moments later, the heavy boots of armed security could be heard stomping through the corridors. 

Dean fired a bullet into the wall and the staff dropped to the floor like cowering animals, giving the Winchester party a chance to escape. They zipped through the corridors, away from the heavy footsteps and loud yelling of security guards and towards a hallway that contained no doors and poor lighting. 

Then they ran out of hall.

One door stood before them, locked via a pass-reader and Charlie quickly set to work as the sounds of furious security guards grew louder. There must have been six of them; all armed and shielded with thick, bulletproof clothing and helmets. 

“Charlie!” Growled Dean as Sam threw Jack behind him protectively, gripping his gun a little tighter.

“I can’t go any faster!” Charlie snapped back, just as fearful.

“Get on the floor!” Snarled one guard, cocking a heavy-duty gun at them. His face was hidden by a black helmet.

The door bleeped and the Winchesters shoved Charlie and Jack through, slamming it shut behind them as a bullet ricocheted off its surface.

They backed away from the door with wide, terrified eyes. The guards would gain access to the room in a matter of seconds; they needed to find an escape route, or at the very least, somewhere to hide. 

They glanced around frantically, only to find themselves in a fairly empty room containing four enormous, bulletproof generators and a single computer terminal. 

There was only one door.

Sam and Dean shared a hopeless glance before herding Charlie and Jack towards the generators.

“Hide,” Dean hissed as he pointed to a grate just below one of the generators. It was barely big enough to fit a person through, but the space below the generator was certainly large enough to hold two. It looked like it was part of the cooling system for the generators, but it didn’t appear to be in use at that moment. The generators obviously weren’t hot enough to warrant them being switched on.

Charlie looked devastated and she shook her head rapidly, but Dean scowled and pushed her towards the grate once more.

“We can distract them long enough for you to get out. Don’t move until it’s safe.”

Jack whimpered and flung his arms around Sam, clutching him tightly in protest, but Sam shoved at him firmly and forced him towards the grate. 

“Stay with Charlie,” Sam ordered as the door bleeped.

Sam and Dean glanced at one another defeatedly as the door slid open, allowing the guards entrance. They plastered themselves against the generator as Charlie and Jack slid beneath it.

Then, they jumped out into the open, aiming their guns as the guards did the same.

“Get on the ground!” Spat the guard from earlier, the leader.

“Ladies first,” smirked Dean, sounding much more cocky than he felt.

“Get on the ground with your hands behind your head!” Snarled the guard again, wiggling his weapon for emphasis.

“If it’s all the same to you, fellas… I’d rather take my chances,” drawled Dean.

The guard decided to change tactics. “Who are you?” He demanded. “Why are you down here?”

“American Utilities,” said Sam through a tight smile. “You didn’t pay your water bill this year.”

“State your intentions or I’ll blow a bullet through both your brains,” snapped the guard.

“You caught us,” sighed Dean. “We’re the strippers you ordered for tonight.”

A bullet lodged itself into Dean’s knee.

The older Winchester cried out in agony and crumpled to the floor as dark red liquid seeped into his jeans.

Below the generator, Jack cried in fear and Charlie slapped a hand over his mouth, dragging him tight to her chest to stop him from scrambling out of the grate.

“Where are the other two?” Demanded the guard.

Dean growled through grated teeth. “Bite me.”

The man regarded Dean for a moment before aiming his gun once more. “Do I need to shoot you again?”

“We were trying to hack into the collar update system,” Dean admitted with a sneer.

The guards made various sounds of disgust or amusement.

“So, you’re a pair of those monster activists, huh?” Chuckled the leader as he stepped towards the Winchesters. “Did you know trespassing on private property is illegal? Tampering with our software is considered treason and warrants a life-sentence.”

“This company is hurting innocent creatures,” spat Sam. “It’s killing them!”

“Better than them killing us,” snorted one guard.

“They deserve freedom just as we do!” Snapped Sam.

The leader scoffed. “No. They don’t.” He produced a pair of handcuffs from his belt, another guard copying him.

Sam and Dean glanced at one another one last time, gazes emotional yet determined.

They raised their guns and open fired.

 

* * *

 

When Jack heard Sam’s agonised cry and the heavy thump that followed, he broke free of Charlie’s grip and scrambled out from underneath the generator and towards the fallen Winchesters.

When he saw one of the guards press the barrel of their gun against Dean’s head, he finally snapped.

_“GET AWAY FROM THEM!”_

The lights flickered and blew out in a shower of glass and when the guards looked up at Jack in surprise, the nephilim flung his amber wings out intimidatingly and raised his hand, hurling all six guards into the back wall.

A black halo flickered above his head and his eyes shone a bright yellow as he turned his attention to the four generators. With a strained snarl tearing from his throat, the generators crackled and whirred before failing completely and for a moment, the whole room was plunged into inky blackness.

By the time the computer rebooted itself and the generators started up their natural humming, tiny LEDs on their sides flickering back to life and allowing the guards at least a little light to see, there were only six people left in the room.

 

* * *

 

The agents stared at Gabriel coolly. 

“I think you need to come with us, Mr. Winchester,” said the blonde one as the dark-haired one eyed Lucifer, Michael and Raphael.

“Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be,” he said as he retrieved three high-voltage collars from the case. 

Michael and Lucifer’s eyes widened and they sprang to their feet, Michael dragging Raphael with him and throwing him behind him.

The agents scowled.

“Flee and I shoot Sam between the eyes,” said the blonde agent as he aimed his gun towards Gabriel.

The archangels paused. Whilst a regular bullet wouldn’t harm Gabriel, it was likely that the agents had loaded their weapons with archangel-killing bullets in case they felt the need to protect themselves. Humans were killed by all bullets, so it didn’t matter what they filled their guns with.

Castiel frowned in confusion. He reached up and slowly slid his deactivated collar off his neck.

The agents watched him in surprise.

“…How did- ” One began, but the archangels used the distraction to their advantage and pinned the agents against the wall with a flick of their wrists. 

Lucifer and Michael stepped forwards and flared their wings as they clutched the humans by their shirts. They manifested their blades and pressed them against the agents’ throats and then, Castiel removed Michael and Lucifer’s collars and snapped them into place around the agents’ necks. The collars rebooted with a buzz and the agents’ eyes widened.

“Let’s see how you like it,” smirked Lucifer, raisings his wings threateningly.

“Control your pets!” Snarled the blonde agent, swivelling his head towards Sam. His face drained of colour when Sam’s features began to shift and change and he was left staring at Gabriel, the archangel’s golden wings resting behind his back, relaxed and a smug smirk in place.

“Something wrong, Agent?” Gabriel grinned.

Michael felt a gun press into his stomach. 

“Release us or I’ll shoot,” the olive-skinned agent growled. “These aren’t regular bullets.”

Raphael snorted and with a flick of his wrist, sent the gun skittering onto the floor. “Try again,” he scoffed.

Fear glazed the agents’ expressions as Castiel knocked the remaining gun out of the blonde agent’s grip. They glanced at each other as they realised they had no chance of escape.

“Please,” begged the olive-skinned man. “Don’t kill us.”

“Have mercy,” pleaded the blonde man.

Lucifer curled his lips in disgust. “Would you have granted us that same mercy?”

Both humans fell quiet.

Lucifer snorted. “I vote kill them.”

The agents whimpered.

“I agree,” hummed Gabriel, stalking closer.

The agents sobbed.

“That would make us no better than them,” Michael pointed out.

“We can’t let them leave,” protested Lucifer. “They’ll bring reinforcements.”

“And if we kill them, we won’t be thrown into a breeding facility. We’ll be executed,” frowned Raphael. 

“Only if we’re caught,” Lucifer said.

“Can we at least make them suffer?” Asked Gabriel.

Castiel, whom had at some point migrated to the window to peer through it, finally spoke.

“I believe we should throw them into the street and see what happens to them.”

Gabriel tilted his head in confusion and slowly approached the window. He gazed through it and his eyes widened in surprise.

“I second that,” he said.

Michael, Lucifer and Raphael frowned, puzzled. 

“Brother?” Michael asked softly as Castiel turned to him and made his way over.

“We’re free,” Castiel murmured. He scowled and waved a hand at the agents and suddenly, the world fell silent for them even though they could see the angels’ lips moving. They sobbed again.

Castiel glanced at his brother hopefully. “They did it,” he whispered. “The collars…”

Michael blinked. “…They malfunctioned?”

Castiel smiled and nodded. “Only for a few seconds, but it was enough.”

Raphael perked up. “Do you think Sam and Dean are okay?” He whispered excitedly. 

Castiel’s smile widened. “I can only hope so.”

Their attention returned to the agents and Castiel lifted his magic, allowing them to hear again.

“Let’s throw them outside,” Michael decided. “Allow the neighbourhood ‘pets’ to deal with them.” He smirked at the agents and they shrunk a little in terror.

“What’s outside?” The dark-haired human whispered. “What are you going to do to us?”

The angels said nothing as they herded the collared humans towards the door.

They swung it open and the agents gasped.

A trio of collarless werewolves bounded out of a house in their canine forms, howling in triumph as they sprinted down the street. A car-sized red dragon blew fire at the tarmac where its collar lay and it slowly began to melt. Then it batted its thorny tail at its terrified owner, sending her flying into the fence. A collarless vampire pinned its owner to the floor and bared its teeth, making its human scream. An uncollared wraith grabbed the hand of an uncollared siren and they sped out of the garden and into the street, never once looking back.

The longer they watched, the more monsters began to flee the other houses, some pouncing on their owners to frighten them, others running and never stopping. Some humans cowered from their monsters and others fought with them. The angels could see at least seven humans and monsters injured and one human appeared to be dead in the middle of the road after a demon attack.

Lucifer whistled to grab the attention of the yellow-winged demon. It looked up with a furious inky gaze, blood trickling from a busted lip.

Lucifer and Michael smirked. “Good luck,” Lucifer whispered beside the blonde’s ear. 

They pushed the horrified agents out of the house and slammed the door.

They didn’t see what happened after that.

Gabriel, Castiel and Raphael were already weaving their magic into the house, warding it from other creatures in case anyone decided to break in. Lucifer and Michael joined in and once they were finished, they sat on the couches and waited for the Winchesters and Jack to return.

They had to come home, right?

 

* * *

 

The Winchesters thanked Charlie for her help as they pulled up outside her house. They waited for a witch to turn her back on them before allowing Charlie to run to her front door. Once she reached it, the Winchesters smiled when Meg and Anna threw it open and dragged her into the house with fluttering wings and relieved expressions. They quickly slammed the door.

The car rolled off again and Sam turned to Jack. “How’re you holding up?” 

Jack smiled a little tightly. “I’m not sure how long I can hold the warding.”

Sam’s face softened in sympathy. “We’ll be home soon.”

Jack nodded, eyes glowing a dim yellow and wings flicking in discomfort.

“We really appreciate you doing this,” said Dean as he decided the speed limit didn’t apply today. He wondered if a Fiat Multipla could actually reach over 80 mph.

“Can’t let anything eat you guys now, right?” Chuckled Jack, but the sound was strained and the Winchesters winced.

“Thank you,” said Sam sincerely. “For everything. You have no idea how many innocent creatures you saved today.”

“Your dad’s gonna be so proud,” added Dean and Jack finally quirked his lips into a real smile. 

“…Are you proud?” He asked hopefully.

Sam grinned as Dean chuckled.

“You have no idea,” said Sam.

Jack’s wings fluttered and he concentrated a little harder on warding the car from the creatures who eyed Sam and Dean predatorily.

It was dark outside, the time long past midnight. A few monsters roamed the streets, most sporting old and new injuries. There were no humans brave enough to leave their houses after the past few hours and collars littered the streets, some broken or damaged, others untouched.

Not even the police wanted to risk leaving the station tonight. Some had earlier that day and most had paid dearly for it.

The Winchesters soon reached their house and Jack lifted his magic. A yellow-winged demon glanced at them when they hopped out of the car, but when Sam helped Jack down, the demon turned away. Humans who helped monsters didn’t deserve to be harmed.

The trio hadn’t even reached the door before it swung open and they were ambushed by a group of excited angels.

Sam and Dean chuckled as the angels began fussing over them, checking them for injuries and questioning them a mile a minute. Lucifer tugged Jack into his arms and the nephilim clutched at him happily, even though he knew he was due a scolding. 

A small distance behind them, a family of vampires smiled. Not all humans deserved punishment. They glanced down at the ten-year-old human girl grinning back up at them. Her parents wouldn’t hurt her anymore, not whilst they could protect her. Never again.

“Can we at least get indoors?” Laughed Sam as the cool night air began to seep into his skin.

The angels huddled around their humans as they scuttled indoors and once they were sure they’d locked the door, the Winchesters were pushed onto the huge airbed, the angels settling around them.

Lucifer fussed over his son as the remaining angels latched onto Sam and Dean, pouring healing magic into them even though Jack had soothed the worst of their injuries earlier that day (which had come as a shock to all of them because they hadn’t realised Jack was that advanced in his abilities). 

Once satisfied, the angels curled their wings protectively around the Winchesters and one another and a comfortable silence fell between them all.

“You’re home,” Gabriel said finally, as though Christmas had come early.

Sam tugged Gabriel into his lap and held him tightly, making the archangel mewl in delight.

“Yeah,” whispered Sam, nuzzling into his lover’s soft hair.

Castiel wormed his way into Dean’s side and the hunter wrapped an arm around him and kissed his head.

“You did it,” murmured Castiel, nosing at Dean’s jaw. “You freed us.”

“Actually, Jack shorted the generators,” hummed Dean, finally content with his flock surrounding him. “We just drove the truck and opened a few doors.”

Lucifer glanced at his son in surprise and Jack grinned.

“I’m really good at breaking things,” he stated. 

Lucifer choked on a laugh. “You’re definitely my kid.” He held his son closer.

“He’s also very good at healing gunshot wounds when he’s under pressure,” said Sam, tracing gentle fingers over his repaired ankle.

Jack beamed and the angels raised their eyebrows.

“Sounds like it’s a good job Jack was with you,” hummed Raphael and both Winchesters nodded.

Lucifer glanced at his son sternly. “Don’t think that excuses you from running away. You’re still in big trouble.”

Jack’s expression faded a little but he nodded in understanding and settled against his father’s chest.

Lucifer’s face softened. “However, I’m thrilled that you’re home and safe.” He carded his fingers through an amber wing. Jack smiled.

“You’re not the only ones who had an exciting day,” hummed Gabriel. “The FBI decided to come over for a coffee.”

Sam and Dean stiffened. 

“Did they hurt you?” Dean growled. “What did they want? Where are they? What happened?”

“They tried to force us to come with them, but thanks to you guys, we snapped a couple of collars around their necks and left the neighbourhood to decide what to do with them,” snorted Gabriel. “Oh and you two may be wanted criminals now, but I think the country has bigger problems at the moment.”

Sam and Dean blinked.

“The FBI visited us because they’re aware of your part in kidnapping three archangels and harbouring a fourth as well as releasing a number of creatures from the Kansas breeding facility,” supplied Castiel. He arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t cover your tracks very well.”

Dean snorted. “I’m pretty sure Chainmail HQ also knows who we are. There were enough witnesses for detectives to make an accurate sketch of our faces.” He turned to Sam. “I think we’re officially fired.”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “I think we have bigger problems than being out of a job.”

“I think the government has other priorities than finding and punishing you,” shrugged Castiel. “There are fifty states with a large population of uncollared creatures roaming freely about them. With any luck, by the time anyone finds a solution to that problem, you will have been forgotten about, or at least the charges dropped.”

Gabriel grinned. “You don’t think us ‘monsters’ are going to let the humans who freed us get harmed, do you? Once word spreads about you guys, you’ll be heroes to a lot of creatures, maybe even some humans. They'll want to protect you.”

Sam and Dean glanced at one another. They hadn’t thought about that.

“For now though, it may be best to lay low for a while,” said Michael. “A lot of creatures are… excitable for the moment. They’ll begin to calm once their newfound freedom sinks in, but I suggest staying in the house unless absolutely necessary and even then, ensure at least one of us is accompanying you.”

Dean shook his head in amusement. “How the tables have turned, huh?”

“Indeed,” smirked Michael.

After a few moments, Dean opened an arm in offering and Michael’s wings fluttered before he shuffled over and settled into the hunter’s chest, wrapping six huge silver wings around Castiel and Dean contentedly. Dean buried his fingers in a set of raven feathers, his other hand snaking into a set of silver.

Beside him, Sam was cocooned in a wall of rose-gold and golden feathers, his long arms wrapped around Raphael and Gabriel as Lucifer hugged his son close.

“Thank you,” Michael whispered gratefully. “For saving my family.”

Dean smiled. “Thank you for letting us be a part of your family.”

That night, the flock cuddled close, graces and souls intertwined as they fell into a peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait, guys! Uni got in the way!


	21. Chapter 21

_**One year later**_

_‘Today, talks are taking place to establish whether non-human creatures should be made to wear low-voltage and low-sensitivity collars when supervised by humans. Whilst it was agreed by the government last month that non-human creatures should not be able to roam without supervision, there is hope that the law about collars will be altered this afternoon. Whilst the majority see these changes as improvements to society, there are still those who have their doubts. Let’s go to Mr. Kubrick in Atlanta, Georgia, who says allowing these creatures to wander the streets with little restraint is a dangerous and reckless idea- ’_

Dean flipped the TV off with a frown and turned to the angels.

“Well, it’s not exactly the win we were going for,” he grumbled. 

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Castiel shrugged as he snuggled into Dean’s side. He smiled when the hunter wrapped an arm around him. “These things take time.”

“One year’s plenty time,” huffed Dean. “We should be progressing quicker than this. We should be removing the collars completely, not debating whether we should have them on a lower setting.”

“True, but more people are protesting now,” reasoned Gabriel as he stretched his wings further for Sam’s curious hands. “I mean, how many uncollared creatures do you see on the streets now? It’s not legal but it doesn’t stop people from doing it. Humans are standing up for us and many of us can finally defend ourselves. It’s slow progress, but it’s progress.”

“Not to mention tensions are still rather high between the species,” Michael said. “There have been mass fatalities all over America; humans and non-humans alike. Humans will be wary about granting us our freedom just as many of us are against living in harmony with humans again. Some will want to stay in the wild and others will want to make peace with humans.”

“And what about you guys?” Teased Sam as he dug the heel of his palm into the base of Gabriel’s wing, making the archangel groan in approval. “Have you considered escaping to the wild?”

“We’ve considered it,” drawled Lucifer.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. “And?”

“Don’t get chocolate cake trees in the wild,” mumbled Gabriel as he pressed into Sam’s side and nuzzled at his jaw. “Don’t get cookie trees either.”

Sam snorted and placed a kiss to Gabriel’s head.

“So, the only reason you’re staying with us is because you like dessert?”

“And hot water,” smirked Lucifer.

Sam glanced at his brother with a look of mock hurt. “I feel used.”

Dean grinned. “Don’t pretend you’re not only keeping Gabe around for his cheesecakes.”

Gabriel grumbled something under his breath when Sam nodded thoughtfully. The younger Winchester chuckled and rested his chin on his lover’s head. He loved weekends.

When this whole mess had first started; in those first few weeks where monsters were running around killing humans and vice versa, Sam and Dean’s headshots were plastered over the news. When the authorities came to arrest them, Sam and Dean were stunned to find a wall of varying creatures standing outside their house, ready to protect the Winchesters at all costs. The authorities captured some creatures and managed to collar them, but when the monsters began fighting back, they wisely chose to retreat.

Since then, all sorts of monsters (collared and uncollared, wild and civilised) had been greeting and writing to the Winchesters, thanking them and vowing to protect them. Everywhere they went, the Winchesters were practically being guarded by supernatural creatures, making it so no one could touch them, not even the FBI (and they had certainly tried).

Their angels were pretty protective too and now that they refused to wear collars even in public, there was no chance of anyone causing the Winchesters any harm.

They had, of course, been fired from their jobs, but that wasn’t to say no one else wanted to hire them. In fact, a large Monster’s Rights activist group in D.C. had asked for them to join their board and whilst the Winchesters had graciously declined, the group had assured them the offer was still there if they ever wanted to take it. 

As it turned out, they didn’t need to go searching for jobs because humans and non-humans came to them in search of help. Their reputation as good detectives in the KPD had spread (with maybe a little help from Victor) and the Winchesters found themselves working as Private Investigators for those in need (and often, they were willing to pay).

They knew they were constantly being observed by the government, who were just waiting for the right time to catch them, but with all the creatures and humans jumping to their defence, it didn’t look as though that time would ever arrive.

It wasn’t only the Winchesters who had found jobs either. Michael, Lucifer and Raphael had been offered positions in a sort of rescue home for abused monsters. With nearly all of America knowing their stories and how they were able to overcome their fears and abuse, many creatures looked to the three archangels for help. Castiel, Gabriel and the Winchesters dropped by every so often to see how things were going (usually with a box of sugary treats or some sort of small animal for everyone to coo over), but the three oldest archangels enjoyed their new responsibilities and the extra bit of cash didn’t go unappreciated either.

In a way, things had worked out well for the Winchesters and their angels, even if they were technically all wanted criminals. 

Dean toyed with a few raven feathers and Castiel smiled and relaxed into him happily. Michael watched them fondly before casting his gaze to an equally content Sam and Gabriel, who were pressed against one another on the couch. He glanced at Raphael, who was entertaining Jack with his beloved plastic animals and then finally turned his attention to Lucifer. The second oldest archangel was seated behind his older brother, grooming his wings because what else was there to do on a Sunday afternoon other than lounge around with family?

With a smile tugging at Michael’s lips, he laced his hands together over his lap.

“Honestly? I’m not convinced you’ll ever be able to get rid of us,” he offered quietly.

Dean chuckled. “Suits me fine.”

“I’m not convinced we’ll ever let you go,” hummed Sam.

Michael grinned and ignored Lucifer’s gagging.

“Who knows?” Shrugged Dean after a few moments. “One day we might get a bigger house with enough bedrooms to actually hold us all. Maybe we could build a nest room.” He murmured the last part so quietly, Sam barely heard it, but the angels certainly did.

They perked up excitedly and glanced over to him, watching as his cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

“A nest room?” Echoed Lucifer.

Dean shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t see why not. It’s what you guys have been doing all this time, right? Inviting me and Sam into your nest? You guys deserve a space to build a proper nest rather than an inflatable one.”

Castiel’s eyes shone knowingly. “Someone’s been researching.”

Dean wouldn’t quite meet their gazes. “A little. Sam picked the books up from the library and I just… borrowed them.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “So that’s where they went! I’ve been charged for them!”

Dean shot him a guilty grin.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at his lover. “You’ve been reading about angels?”

It was Sam’s turn to look embarrassed. “Um… yeah. I ah… wanted to understand a little more about your culture.”

Gabriel frowned. “And you borrowed books from the library instead of asking the six angels living in your home about it?”

Sam averted his gaze. “I wanted to read up on a couple of your… customs.”

Gabriel’s frown deepened. “So, why didn’t you ask me about them?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Because… I was hoping to keep it a surprise…”

Gabriel looked painfully confused. “A surprise? What do you mean? Why would you want to keep you learning about our customs a secret? If you’re worried about getting anything wrong, you should know that I don’t- ”

“Gabriel,” interrupted Lucifer with the widest smirk Sam had ever seen him wear. “Use those two brain cells of yours. Sam was researching our customs but didn’t want you to find out about what exactly it was he was researching. He wanted it to be a surprise. Think. What could he have possibly been reading?”

Gabriel looked lost as his brothers grinned at him in amusement. Dean was gaping at Sam and Sam wasn’t looking at any of them, his face flushed like a tomato and Gabriel really didn’t understand what everyone knew about that he didn’t, but it was rather annoying. Why hadn’t Sam wanted to come to him with his questions and why did his brothers find it so amusing and why did Dean appear so shocked about-

_Oh._

Gabriel’s head swivelled towards Sam so fast he saw spots. 

“Were you looking up mating traditions?”

His brothers laughed and even Dean began to snicker at Gabriel’s squeaky voice and wide eyes. A shy smile pulled at Sam’s lips and he nodded.

“I… um… wanted to do it right. Carry out all the proper rituals and go through a traditional courtship. I ah… wanted to make you feel… special,” he admitted softly. Then he frowned. “But your courtships are very long-winded with lots of rules and there are certain parts I can’t do, such as the mid-flight dance and marking you with my oil. I can’t build a nest with my feathers incorporated into it and I can’t offer you a part of my grace because I don’t have any.” Sam looked a combination of disappointed and frustrated with himself. 

“I’m sorry, Gabe,” Sam said quietly. “I’ve ruined your chances of a traditional mating.”

Gabriel blinked. Then he grabbed Sam by the collar and hauled him closer so he could crush their lips together.

When they pulled apart, Sam was staring at Gabriel with wide, surprised eyes.

Gabriel didn’t let go of Sam’s collar, but he did loosen his grip.

“Angelic courtship is a long, boring, mindless sequence of antiquated rules and rituals. Some of the meanings behind the rituals have been forgotten and most don’t apply in today’s world. I don’t want tradition. I want our ‘courtship’ to be something we can both enjoy, not something we have to stress over. I want to mate the human I love without him having to worry whether or not he’s doing things by the book.” 

Gabriel’s hand slid from Sam’s collar to his cheek. “You don’t need to worry about making me feel special, Sam. I already feel that every day when I’m with you.”

Sam’s slow smile could have lit an entire room.

“I just threw up a little in my mouth,” said Lucifer.

Gabriel flipped him off and Michael slapped him over the back of the head with a wing.

“So… are you going to ask me?” Grinned Gabriel excitedly.

Sam smirked and shook his head and the archangel’s wings drooped comically.

“What?! Why?” He demanded.

“Because I want it to be a surprise and whilst you may not mind an untraditional mating, I still want it to be romantic,” chuckled Sam, making Gabriel perk up again.

“I might say no,” Gabriel teased.

“That’s fine. I’ll ask one of your brothers instead,” Sam shot back.

“I’ll mate you,” said Raphael. “We could get a guide dog. You’ve always wanted a puppy, right, Sam?”

“Now there’s an interesting offer.”

“I can’t believe you’d trade me in for a dog,” pouted Gabriel.

“A dog and a roll around the hay with me,” corrected Raphael. “I personally don’t know why this hasn’t happened already.”

“Shut up, Raph.”

“I’m down for it. I don’t need to see his face to know that he’s hot.”

“You don’t even like guys.”

“We’d be a progressive interracial couple. It’d be cute.”

“I will smack you.”

“Our kids would be adorable.”

“I’m getting up to smack you.”

“You’re going to hit the disabled guy in front of an eight-year-old child? That’s racist. I’m calling my boyfriend. Sam!”

The room was filled with snickers as Gabriel tackled Raphael to the floor and began swatting him with his wings. 

The two wrestled for a moment before Raphael managed to flip their positions and sit on Gabriel with a triumphant smirk.

“Actually, I was thinking of asking for Lucifer’s hand,” drawled Sam.

“Well, now you’ve upset both of us,” said Raphael as Gabriel shoved him off his stomach.

The youngest archangel marched over to the couch and pressed into Sam’s side pointedly, flaring his wings possessively just to be dramatic. 

“I’m not going to say no,” he grumbled. “Stop offering your ass to my brothers.”

Sam wrapped an arm around his lover and nuzzled his hair contentedly.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Castiel flicked his amused gaze to Dean.

“So… what were you researching?”

Dean’s face flushed pink once more.

“Shut up, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! I hope you enjoyed this fic (even though it was a lot longer than I planned it to be)! As always, I've loved hearing all of your comments, even when I take weeks to reply! I promise I do read them all and they make my heart flutter ;) Have a wonderful day and I hope to see you in the next story!

**Author's Note:**

> An idea I've had in my head for a little while now. Not sure how long it will be, but I'm aiming to keep it under 12 chapters. Enjoy~


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